


Silverwings

by AlexKingOfTheDamned



Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Kink, Developing Relationship, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Sexual Tension, Size Kink, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He probably should have been traumatized by the whole trip into space. He probably should have nightmares about it, he should relax in the comfort of predictability and routine. But the best dreams he ever has are the ones where that old scalawag arrives out of the blue to rescue Jim from his purgatory, before that damnable trumpet wakes him from the only thing that gives him pleasure these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experimental fic in progress with my bestie tinkeringtexan.tumblr.com I'm writing Jim, they're writing Silver. 
> 
> The plot is kind of weaving all over the place at this point, and there will be several OC's sprinkled about. I will be adding tags, warnings, and characters as they apply. 
> 
> I apologize if Jim is a little ooc at times, I'm still trying to get the hang of writing him. I'm trying to balance his canon personality with the fact that he's several years older in this fic, and taking into account his maturity and life experience, etc. I'm sorry if it's a little rocky! 
> 
> There will be smut in future chapters, so readers beware~

Anybody will say how stressful it is to attend a job day after day that you don’t enjoy. Everybody knows how draining it is, how exhausting, how life-alteringly miserable it is. But those people all get to go home at the end of the day, unwind, put their pajamas on, read a book, have a wank, and so on.

 

Jim doesn’t have that luxury. Nine years spent in a job he disliked within months of starting have run him completely ragged. He doesn’t get to go home, he has to return to barracks, follow the schedule of the Intergalactic Navy. He eats when they let him eat, he sleeps when they let him sleep, he shits when they let him shit. As a kid he must have had some pretty romanticized ideas about what it would like to be a military man, but he can’t even remember them anymore past all the bitterness.

 

He’s not even sure why he sticks around anymore. Probably mostly because he doesn’t even know where to go from here. He’s been in the Navy for so long that he doesn’t really know how to do anything else. He’s so used to their routine that the thought of being in control of himself again almost frightens him. The Navy schedules everything for him so rigorously that if he left he might forget how to schedule things for himself, and forget to eat or sleep or make time to shower.

 

It used to be that even though he was unhappy, he stuck around for his mother. But then that all went down the tubes, and they’re barely in contact anymore. Some days he lies in his bunk and stares at the ceiling, ignoring the blaring of reveille, contemplating how much of an impact it would make if he were to hang himself in a utility closet. He would think about who would find him, and how it would disrupt their schedule to report his body, which could ultimately land them in trouble, he would think about who would have to take the time to write home to his mother, the grief she would experience. He would think about how much it would cost to have him cremated, how much it would cost for his mother to have a funeral for him, how much it would cost to bury him or even just ship his body out into open space.

 

It would be this train of thought that would barely have him slogging through the day without putting a bullet from his firearm in his head. He doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to cause that much distress to everyone around him. He just wants to seamlessly fade out of existence.

 

The days were starting to bleed together. Sleeping didn’t make him any less tired, it would just give him a break from being tired until he woke up tired again. His morale was so low, he was ordered mandatory counseling, but that did him little good. The counselor would talk about how he needs to “rediscover his passion” and “find things that make him happy” but he would just stare out the window and let her nasally voice fade in the back of his mind as he daydreams about the last time he was happy.

 

He probably should have been traumatized by the whole trip into space. He probably should have nightmares about it, he should relax in the comfort of predictability and routine. But the best dreams he ever has are the ones where that old scalawag arrives out of the blue to rescue Jim from his purgatory, before that damnable trumpet wakes him from the only thing that gives him pleasure these days.

 

So when he first hears the name John Silver floating on the lips of his fellow Navy soldiers, he thought it was his dreams bleeding into reality. He could cope with a heavy dose of hallucinations if it meant even a sliver of that old man coming back into his life. But then he heard louder whispers and even flat-out conversations about how Silver was finally tracked down and caught. The first time he heard a conversation about it up-close was in a mess hall and subtlety was the farthest thing from his mind when he barged between them blurting questions.

 

He’d been lured in by a trap, with the help of a pirate crew who in exchange for helping them catch Silver, would be released from custody with their charges dropped. They tried to team up with Silver’s meager crew to cash in on a much larger vessel where they would split the loot, but the instant Silver’s guard was dropped one hair they lanced him and turned him in. Jim’s blood boils as he considers how little it would take for him to commit a few acts of pre-meditated murder.

 

But his rage turns to abject terror a day later when he finds out the Navy plans to publicly hang Silver for his crimes. He has less than a week to figure out where they plan to do this, come up with a plan to save him, and figure out an escape strategy. There’s no way he’s protecting his career in a job he hates in favor of allowing the best thing to ever happen to him die. He didn’t even really take the time to contemplate the consequences. The consequences don’t matter. He could die in the attempt but if he gets Silver out alive, it would be worth it.

 

He should have been smart enough to see through their plan, but Silver had let his greed get the better of him. Since their last expedition, he and his crew had been hard up for money and looking to make it any way they could, so when the prospect of looting a ship came up, he’d had a hard time of refusing.

 

It isn’t his first time in the slammer, but it’s quickly looking to be his last. They’d wasted no time stripping him of his clothes and his prosthetic, and putting him in a tidy uniform that made him blend right in with the rest of the scum in this place. Unlike the rest of the rabble, he had been placed in a maximum security cell with guards stationed inside and out to keep him from getting smart.

 

From what he can tell, he’s got a week to think of a way to escape, but it doesn’t look as though he’ll be given much of a chance. He’s under the watch of twelve guards at all times. The only time they relent is when it’s time to be relieved, and even then they go in turns, so there is little chance of catching them off guard. There’s nobody on the outside looking for him, his crew has been caught along with him. Some of them, he expects, will be making deals to get the sentence lightened.

 

The quiet of jail gives him time to contemplate things. Silver’s life hasn’t been the same since that trip nearly fifteen years ago. The money had spent well, but he’d never had a mind for saving and there were few places a notorious pirate could settle down without being caught, and even then the prospect of getting comfortable someplace didn’t sit well with him. He still had plenty of years before he’s old and feeble, and even then he’d probably be out riding the etherium. It doesn’t look like he’ll make it through to his golden years, but maybe it’s not so bad.

 

He’s lived a life of freedom, and that life has taken him to the corners of the universe, allowed him to see more than sticking around on his home planet working at the docks would have. He’s met so many people from all over, made enemies and a few friends on the way, though most of the latter never stuck. The life of a scalawag didn’t abide friends, but there was one who stuck out more than the others.

 

Silver had often wondered what had happened to that ornery kid over the years. Had he returned home to work the Inn with his mother or was he now the captain of his own vessel somewhere in the etherium? He likes to imagine that he did something good with his life, that somehow something he’d said to him had made an impression.

 

If he could find him again, see him one last time before he sees the hangman, he wonders what they would talk about. Maybe he has kids by now and he tells them the stories of his days on board that ship, how he met an old pirate captain and seen the loot of a thousand worlds. Even with all the great memories Silver has about Jim, he has his regrets. They’d left on good terms, but he’s often laid awake at night wishing things had shaken out differently.

 

He’s going to have to settle now that he’ll never have the chance to make things right. Some part of him, all these years, has kept alive the hope that one day he’ll see him again. It’s a foolish dream, the universe is wide and the chances that they’d ever see each other again are slim and now, nonexistent.

 

Every man has to answer for his actions eventually. It’s time he faced the music.

 

In the days leading up to the date of Silver’s execution, Jim has gone all but manic. He’s not sleeping well, he catches only a few hours a night between going over his plan in his head until he can’t think anymore for his exhaustion. He’s withdrawing even more than usual, avoiding eye contact, conversation, even with men he was friendly with before. He can’t afford any distraction.

 

He manages to get away long enough to purchase a cape from the nearest shop, one with a mask attached to the hem of the hood so he could easily cover his face. Not that it matters to him. He doesn’t plan on going back ever again. If all goes well, he’ll be running away with Silver. If it doesn’t, he’ll be dead. Either way, he’s not returning to the Navy.

 

He passed the jail Silver was being kept in. There was no way to mistake it. Nobody else would be afforded that level of security. It’s surreal, to walk past the jail and know that Silver is directly inside. It doesn’t feel real, it feels too good to be true. He’s spent too long praying and wishing without an answer, it doesn’t seem possible for it to be coming true now.

 

But he reminds himself not to be complacent. This isn’t a dream come true, this is a nightmare that he can only just barely save them both from if he’d hyperfocused and vigilant. He’ll do whatever it takes to be sailing the open skies again by Silver’s side. He manages to commandeer a simple two-man dinghy with a hefty bribe that almost clears out his savings, which will be ready and waiting for them just a few blocks from the open square where they’ll try to hang Silver.

 

In his free time, he practices his sharpshooting. He’d honed the skill over the last decade, but a large part of him is afraid he’ll completely lose the ability that he’s had for years all at once when he really needs it. With everything set up and absolutely no room for error, all he can do is wait, and get a good night’s sleep the day before Silver’s execution.

 

The night before the day, Silver is given his last meal, and he refuses the last rites of the priest, having left religion behind a lot time ago. There are still some who cling to it for comfort in their last moments, but he would prefer to go out in the same way he’d lived. Silver had never found the crutch of spirituality to be comforting, but rather something for those who couldn’t deal with the reality of the world.

 

He tries to make small talk with the guards, but he’s quickly shushed. It would have been nice to have had a pleasant conversation before he goes. So instead, he lays himself down in the bed provided and has some time to think before sleep eventually claims him.

 

The ursine is awakened at dawn by the loud clatter of metal against the bars of his cell. They command him to get up slowly, then cuff his one hand to a chain around his waist and lead him out of his cage. The walk through the jail has prisoners jeering at him, some of the faces seem familiar but he can’t match names to them.

 

They exit through the yard and come out upon the gallows standing high against the sunrise. There are all sorts of people gathered around, come to watch the prisoners hang high for their crimes. It’s always been a public spectacle. They lead him up the stairs where there are two other prisoners awaiting the same sentence, each with bags over their heads. Silver’s sight is soon blinded by one of his own.

 

They slip the noose around his neck, a thing that’s been fashioned thicker than most to hold his weight, and they tighten it around his neck. Much to his dismay, a priest begins talking, giving them their final rites. He focuses on the inky blackness of his cowl and hopes that this is over quick. Maybe soon he’ll be able to find out if he’s been wrong all these years and he’ll have to answer to a higher power.

 

In the back of the crowd with a rifle hidden under his cloak, Jim lurks as inconspicuously as possible. His eyes are constantly scanning the crowd for a quick way to the front, recalculating every few seconds as the people shift around. When he got his first glimpse of Silver, his heart leapt in his chest, and he pulled the hood over his head, securing the mask over his eyes and behind his ears. It covers him all the way down to his lips, with fogged glass eye holes that give him a hawkish appearance. With his uniform traded out for simple boots, pocketed trousers and long sleeve shirt, he looks every part like the sort of man who would be creeping around the back of a public execution.

 

He can’t keep his breathing in check. He’s absolutely fraught with nerves. He has only one shot at this, and if he messes up, Silver will die. If he fails and Silver pays for it, he’ll turn his gun on himself and pull the trigger before anybody even has a chance to figure out what’s happened.

 

The rites are being read and the executioner is pulling on his gloves to prepare to pull the lever that will drop Silver and the other two nameless inmates to their deaths. Jim’s cloak hangs around his shoulders, his heart pounds in his throat.

 

“May God have mercy on your souls.”

 

The executioner passes the priest and grabs the lever. Jim has one shot at this. One chance. One bullet. Nine years of rigid sharpshooting training have all come down to this. Every moment spent in the range, every jammed gun and bloody finger was all in preparation for this, he just never knew it until this week. He exhales, eyes tracking the executioner as he pulls the lever.

 

One collective breath in. All eyes on the platform. Jim’s rifle comes up between the folds of his cloak, almost unnoticed in time with the downward swing of three men twenty feet away.

 

“What are you doing?” he hears a single voice beside him. Before the rope even has a chance to go taut, his rifle cracks. The bullet whips through the air and hits its target without an inch to spare, shredding through Silver’s rope almost completely, so that when the weight of his body lands on it, it snaps and he drops five feet to the ground.

 

The crowd screams, Jim shoves people aside without remorse. Everyone is scrambling to see what happened, to figure out what went wrong. Jim bursts through the front of the crowd and barely stops long enough to wrap an arm under Silver’s and bark,

 

“ _ON YOUR FEET!_ ”

 

Silver is obviously disoriented and in pain from the drop, but he senses the urgency of the situation and in less than two seconds he’s upright and following his savior blindly, who still has a firm grip on his shirt sleeve. Jim’s breath is high in his throat as he charges through the streets, hearing the cries of the crowd diminish behind him. They’re being pursued already by Navy guards, but Jim’s only thought is to get Silver somewhere safe.

 

The older man is obviously having a hard time keeping up, stumbling blindly and uncharacteristically putting all his trust in a man he can’t even see. Jim yanks him around a corner and pulls him down an alley, thrusting him into a dumpster around a corner just in time for them to be hidden from sight as the Navy guards rush by shouting. Panting, Jim pulls out his knife and cuts through the rope binding the bag over Silver’s face and pulls it off over his head so he’ll be able to keep up better from here out. The handcuff will have to come off later, but he doesn’t need his hand to run.

 

Silver isn’t even thinking as the dumpster lid is opened and he climbs out unsteadily. Without the familiar weight of his arm he’s a little off balanced and less graceful than he might usually be, not that he was ever particularly light on his feet. His savior leads him down the narrow alley and they come to a dead end with enough clutter piled up that they can climb over.

 

“Hurry up!” The young man urges him, and Silver does just that. He wastes no time asking questions, though he’s got one in mind, but clambers up the garbage heap and over the wall, which is a seven foot drop down to the cobble stones on the other side; they hit the ground running, the man is limber and quick as a cat where Silver is more clumsy and lumbering, but they make do.

 

They rush down back alleys, rarely stopping to check if they’re being followed. Silver’s adrenaline rush is starting to make him feel lightheaded, and a metallic taste has crept into his mouth. The call of the Naval officers and the crowd have left them and all that they have is the stamping of their feet against hard stones as they persist in silence.

 

When they come to a dinghy hanging in the air, Silver rushes past the stranger and climbs into the boat. His heart is pounding out of his chest and he’s having a hard time breathing, but he’s alive and freedom is just a few seconds away. The young man unties the knot and climbs in behind him and begins preparing the sails.

 

Silver notes that it’s a Naval vessel, so they might be looking for it soon, but his guesses are that they haven’t noticed it missing just yet. He starts drawing conclusions about his savior immediately, but for now he doesn’t say anything.

 

They disappear into the sky and break the atmosphere as the dinghy gathers speed. When Silver sees the planet below and the stars twinkling in the purple etherium, he relaxes for the first time in a week. His rescuer has so far stayed silent, watching from behind with his rifle trained and ready to shoot down anyone who might be following.

 

The Ursine turns as best as he can in the boat and glances over his shoulder. “I suppose a t’anks doesn’t cut it, but I expect they’re going to be lookin’ for you just as hard as me . . . desertin’ ain’t looked kindly upon.”

 

Jim finally relaxes as he guides them into the thick fog of a comet tail that will shield them from view for a few moments at least. Long enough for him to sit back against the rudder and melt. His heart hasn’t stopped pounding, for more than one reason. The adrenaline is still thrumming in his body, his guard hasn’t dropped for a second. He’s ready to kill as many people as he has to in order to prevent Silver’s death.

 

But he lets his muscles unclench a bit as he scans the open space around them. It looks like he’s managed to get them out without being followed, but he wagers he’ll be scanning the skies for Navy vessels for the rest of his life. He can live with that.

 

He looks up at Silver through his mask, and his heart starts to pound for a new reason. Save for his very evidently missing arm, he hasn’t changed much. He maybe has a new line or two on his face and if Jim isn’t mistaken his ear is a bit more torn, but he looks so much the same that his heart aches so deep it might kill him.

 

“We’re not done yet,” he says, in lieu of all the flowery things that want to burst out of his chest and rapid fire at the old man who hasn’t left his thoughts for a single day in fifteen years. “Once you’re safe I’m going back for your arm.”

 

It’s no mystery that Long John Silver is a cyborg. It isn’t something he’s exactly hidden, so it isn’t _that_ unusual that someone who knew him well enough to brave sabotaging a Naval execution would know about his arm. That voice is familiar to him though, and his mind wanders over the variables who it might be. A long lost son perhaps, though he’s a little small. Someone he owes a debt to?

 

“Just who are you? I don’t remember leavin’ any friends behind to come to my rescue. They’re all locked up or dead by now.”

 

Jim’s eyes leave open space to stare up at Silver incredulously. He doesn’t remember Jim?

 

“You--?” For a few heavy moments, his heart starts to shatter apart-- until he remembers he’s wearing a goddamn mask. He laughs at his own stupidity, at his own baseless fear. Of course Silver will remember him. There’s no way he won’t.

 

He reaches up and unclips the mask from behind his ears and pulls it off his face, letting it fall with the hood over his shoulders, and blue eyes look hopefully up at the older man, holding his breath, praying for recognition, for validation from his fears.

 

Silver takes a moment to turn fully around, which is a bit of a hassle given he’s got no free arms to steady himself, but he left the fear of falling out of boats behind a long, long time ago. His heart simultaneously lifts and drops when he sees those familiar blue eyes staring up at him, as youthful and hopeful as the day he’d left them.

 

“Jimbo.” Silver gasps, his mouth stays open for a long moment before his brows furrow and he glares. “You deserted to risk yer life savin’ me sorry hide? Jim, yer an _outlaw_ now. Do ye know what that means? They’re going to be huntin’ you down to yer last breath!” If he could grab him and shake him right now he would. Silver’s fingers twitch up in reflex. He could choke him right now. “Ye had a _chance_ to do somethin’ good with yer life and you risked it for me? I can’t . . . Jim.”

 

Silver sags and looks away, out into the tail of the comet where the stars beyond are blurred. “Thank ye Jimbo.”

 

Jim is bursting with conflicting emotions. Part of him wants to yell back, his temper flaring up in an old familiar way in Silver’s presence that makes him feel hot and alive for the first time in years. Tears brim in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them drop.

 

“I _tried_ ,” his voice cracks and he clears his throat, looking away. “I tried for years. I _hated_ it. I’ve hated the last decade of my life, nothing has gone right. I tried to do something good, I _tried_ \--”

 

His voice chokes up and he looks down at his lap. “I’m not the man you wanted me to be. I don’t have it in me, I’m not the right kind of person. I’m... not good enough. All I’ve been able to think about for the last fifteen years is how much I miss adventure. The Navy is the opposite of adventure. It was killing me, I didn’t even have a reason to live anymore, Silver, you’ve got to understand. I didn’t give up anything good, I didn’t _become_ anything. I failed, a long time ago. If you died and I lost that shred of hope that I’d ever see you again--”

 

He hangs his head in his hands. Just hearing Silver say his name again has painful joy prickling in his chest. “I don’t have anybody anymore. I’m all alone,” he says, looking down at the bottom of the boat. His emotions are running away from him, he's hardly even paying attention to what's coming out of his mouth anymore. “I don’t even have _me_ anymore, I feel like a stranger in my own body, I’ve been piloted for almost ten years by other people, I can’t do it anymore. If you died, I would have died too. I love you, Silver.”

 

Silver listens quietly, his heart aching for Jim. He shakes his head and glances away from the young man, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I’m still proud of you lad. You made an effort, you tried. If ye get up on a horse and fall off, you can’t be slighted for tryin’.”

 

There are right words to be said, but Silver can’t grasp them right now. Normally his tongue is the same color as his name, but nothing pops to mind except: “I’m sorry Jimbo.” The ursine looks across at the young man, then down at the boards of the boat. He thinks for a long minute, the only sound passing between them is the hum of the dinghy’s engine. Silver at last groans, stretching his prosthetic leg out in front of him.

 

“Well, yer free now.” Silver says in a determined voice. “You can go wherever you damn well please, but we’re going to have to shake the Navy, which means layin’ low. We can’t go back for that old arm of mine, you’ll get caught for sure.”

 

Jim struggles to think of what to say, his heart pounding for a new reason. He hadn’t realized his feelings had spilled out of his mouth until they were already hanging in the open air, but Silver didn’t even flinch. He would have expected embarrassment at least, outrage at worst, but this nonreaction is refreshingly simple for Jim to wrap his head around. He’d come to terms with his budding boyhood crush years ago, reconciled the pain of losing Silver, he had no problems admitting to himself how he felt about the old man. He hadn’t expected Silver to be so completely okay with it, but he’s not going to look a gift bear in the mouth and keep pushing for more.

 

“If I go back by tonight, they won’t know it was me,” he finally says. He reaches behind him and shakes the hood with its attached mask. “Only way they’ll know it was me is when I don’t show up for roll and my bunk stays empty. Which means we have to find somewhere for you to hide while I get in, track it down, and get back out.”

 

“Really, it’s an old beat up thing. You’d be better off--” When Silver looks over at Jim, he sees a determination burning in the young man’s eyes and all of the wind goes out of him. “There’s no talkin’ you out of it, is there?” He says rhetorically, shifting in his bonds. The cuffs are beginning to cut into the short fur covering his skin, rubbing it raw there.

 

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a key for these, have you?”

 

“Key, no,” Jim pulls a hefty pair of wire snippers out of the pouch on his hip. “I have this, though.”

 

He figured Silver would either be in ropes or cuffs, so he brought tools to take care of both. He leans in and wedges the chain into the cutters and with a powerful snip, it breaks apart and releases Silver from captivity to his hip.

 

Sitting back as Silver rubs at his chafed wrist with a chuckled apology, he looks the man up and down, filled with another fresh wave of emotion. Shy of ten years of suffering, trapped in a daydream of his youth, the expectations of his mother, of Silver himself, stagnant and miserable, it doesn’t seem possible for that kind of unhappiness to end. It seems all-consuming, inescapable, the only way to get away from it is to just die.

 

Silver is sitting in front of him again, real and solid, missing parts but still as whole as Jim ever knew him. His breathing escalates and he kneels up on the board seat, throwing his arms around Silver’s neck. He hopes the old man will afford at least one hug to an old friend.

 

The ursine had never been much of one for physical contact of this sort. His father had never been the hugging sort, and his mother was a whole other story he’d prefer not to think about ever again. Years of sailing had hardened him up, made him less likely to touch unless it was out of anger or a need to discipline, rarely to touch in a gentle way; but for Jim, he cracks. All of those years of guarding himself seem to tear apart and he softens.

 

Silver throws a heavy arm over Jim and holds him against his chest. “It’s alright.” He says in a soft voice, his hand cupping the back of the lad’s head and smoothing down his short hair. All these years he never thought he would see Jim again, and now he’s here and Silver feels like there’s so much time to make up for. Secretly he’s wanted this for so long, to be with Jim again, to sail together, to be free together. If their luck holds, they can do just that. It’s so hard to believe, Silver starts to wonder if he’s dreaming--that he’s still asleep back in the jail and this is all just in the imagination of an old sailor. So he clings hard to Jim, crushing their bodies together so he can feel how real he is, so he knows he isn’t just dreaming.

 

The hug lingers for longer than is maybe strictly appropriate before they break apart, both clearing their throats and trying to recapture their masculinities. Jim settles back into the steering seat and opens the sails again, gliding out on the momentum left behind by the comet.

 

“I’m going to put you on a roof somewhere,” he says, already pulling his cloak off and tossing it at Silver. It wouldn’t do much more than cover his face and shoulders whereas it came down to Jim’s knees, but really that’s all Silver needs covered. “I’ll find something with some cover you can hide under. Beneath that bench there I stored some jerky and bread, might be stale by now but it’s better than nothing. I’ll probably be gone for several hours before I come back to pick you up in this ship.”

 

He descends through the atmosphere cautiously, keeping his eyes peeled for any navy vessels. They’d probably gone far enough south from the event that they didn’t think to search. Nobody knew Silver had a getaway vehicle after all, they’re still searching for where he could get to on foot.

 

Locating a roof with a pigeon roost, Jim lowers the ship far enough down that Silver can tip over the side and land harmlessly on the gravel. Jim hovers in the air for a moment, unsure of what to say. He’s so scared that if he flies away now, by the time he comes back, Silver will be gone. He knows it’s not possible, Silver has no way to get off the planet, every man in the Navy will be out looking for him as per Top Brass’ orders. They finally got one of the most slippery pirates and lost him right as they were about to end his story, it goes without saying that they’ll be livid.

 

He tosses the bread and meat and cloak down to Silver and tries to condense fifteen years of longing and gratitude into one sentence, but all he manages to get out is “I’ll be back, either tonight or tomorrow morning. Just... stay here, okay? We can leave together.”

 

Silver looks up at him searching for words to say, but all he can muster is, “I’ll be waiting. Good luck, Jimbo.” They look at each other for a moment or two before Jim takes off and leaves Silver standing on the roof. He ducks down behind the roost and throws the cloak over himself, tucking the bread and meat away for now.

 

Thoughts of Jim’s failure start to set in almost immediately. He worries that the lad will be caught, he’ll be executed in a firing line and Silver won’t know until he’s found on this damn rooftop waiting for Jim to return. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm his thoughts. The Jim he knew was brash, yes, but he’d always been sly. If he’s got a mind to go after this thing, knowing Jim he’s got a plan that’ll leave the Navy spinning in circles looking for him by the time they’re well out of the planet’s atmosphere. Jim’s smart, he can trust in that.

 

For now he wards away the thoughts by making plans of his own. He’s got a few old sailing mates who owe him money, and one he knows for a fact owes him a big favor. If they get to Semele in the dinghy, he might be able to secure them a proper ship--albeit not a very big one--from one of the scrapyards. It’s a plan that’s a ways off, and it hinges on their escape from this planet, but the thought of he and Jim being together again, free and happy makes his heart a little less heavy with fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Jim doesn’t have much time to work with. He ties the dinghy off blocks away so he’ll still be able to access it later, and he sneaks back into the barracks. He’s not sure where to begin looking for Silver’s arm, but he knows he doesn’t have much to lose. If he gets captured, at this point he’ll willingly kill to get away. He doesn’t have anything in this base he’s protecting, and it wouldn’t be the first time in the past fifteen years that he’s taken a life.

 

He figures it wouldn’t just be laying around in the residential area so he sneaks towards the offices. He swipes a screwdriver from a utility closet and waits until nobody is looking to pick the lock and break into the higher ranking classified section. Not many people are around this time of day, it’s still relatively early in the morning, and classified work tends to happen in the evening, when they have the shroud of darkness to transport anything sensitive.

 

He scours that place end to end to end, and he finds neither hide nor hair of Silver’s arm. He goes through it twice, he has to hide at one point when two people enter the room to look for something and then leave again a few minutes later. He checks behind things and under things, he moves things around-- he doesn’t care if they know he was here, he’ll be long gone anyway.

 

But still no luck. He must have spent more than three hours just searching the place with absolutely no luck. Nothing even remotely close to an arm could be found-- save for a glove of some kind, but that was irrelevant. Jim is at a loss.

 

And then it occurs to him. They consider Silver the scum of the galaxy. His arm isn’t exactly top notch technology, so they would have no reason to keep or study it. There are many cyborgs out there with much more advanced, streamlined mechanics. Silver’s arm is more or less a well-stocked cargo ship in a sea of sleek speedsters. Jim always thought Silver’s robotics were a work of art, but through the years, upon meeting other cyborgs, it became clear that few other people would share the sentiment.

 

So he takes himself to the back of the base, to the scrap yard, and in less than five minutes he locates Silver’s arm tossed haphazardly on a pile of scrap metal that would eventually be melted down into hulls for ships. It makes his blood boil, how disrespectful they are to Silver. It should go without saying that they would treat him poorly given his criminal status, but Jim doesn’t care how irrational or illogical his thought process is. They should all hang for not knowing what an incredible man Silver is.

 

The arm is heavier than he would have anticipated. There’s no easy or subtle way for him to get out with it, it weighs more than _he_ does. It’s pushing the limits of what he can feasibly lift and carry, and he has to haul it all the way to the boat twenty five blocks away. There’s no way he’s going to be able to do that in broad daylight, so even though he’s found it within only a couple hours, he’ll have to wait for the cover of night, wrap it up in a cloth, and carry the thing on his back. It won’t be easy, but he would cut his own arm off if it meant getting away with Silver intact.

 

He goes about the rest of his day normally. He goes out on manhunts with other members of the Navy in small parties, searching for Silver and the mysterious man who helped him escape. Three times, he passes the building that he left Silver on the roof. It makes his heart leap up into his throat every time he sees a ship go overhead, fearing it’ll pass over that one roof and Silver won’t be hidden enough. At this point they’ll just shoot to kill him on sight.

 

But night comes without a trace of Silver or his rescuer. Jim is dog tired, he would love more than anything to collapse into his bunk and return to Silver in the morning. But he’s certain that come the morning, every port will be swarming with guards trying to catch Silver attempting to escape. They have no choice but to leave tonight.

 

He doesn’t get back to the scrapyard until almost ten pm. With his blanket in tow, he relocates Silver’s arm from where he’d hidden it and wraps it up firmly in the cotton blanket. With two corners tucked in and the other two utilized into a sling, he hefts the massive contraption up onto his back and begins the exhausting journey back to the boat. He staggers on his feet, swaying to try and keep his balance whenever the arm starts to slip. It digs deep bruises into his back where the grooves sit heavy against his skin, but he presses on. If he learned anything in the past nine years in the Navy, it’s how to push on when he’s so miserable he might rather die.

 

It takes him well over an hour and forty five minutes to make it back to the boat. He collapses inside beside the arm instantly, just relaxing for a few minutes, lying back on one of the benches to rest his aching back. When he finally feels like he can breathe again, he sits up, fires up the engine, and slowly makes his way back to the rooftop, using only the engines and forgoing those light-up solar sails.

 

Silver’s done nothing but whinge, which is uncharacteristic of him, but the roof has given him little opportunity to do anything else but think. He hadn’t even eaten, he’s been so worried. Every time he’d heard a noise, he’d stiffened thinking it was Jim come to his senses or else someone who had spotted him. Nightfall had made him no less jumpy, though he’s less visible to search parties in the late hour. His thoughts wander persistently over what’s become of Jim.

 

When he hears the soft hum of engines, he chances to peer around the corner and sees the tired body of Jim slumped in the dinghy with the lumbering shape of his arm swaddled up in a blanket. Silver shucks the cloak that Jim had given him, and when the boat’s within reach he tugs it near to the roof and Jim shuts the engines off. It’s antigravity allows it to hover nearby with ease.

 

The first thing he notices is that Jim looks like he’s about to pass out. What he must have gone through to obtain the prosthetic isn’t lost on Silver. The thing weighs twice as much as Jim, it couldn’t have been an easy task to carry it back to the dinghy. Silver steps down into the boat, which creaks slightly at his added weight and he unwraps the arm from its blanket and he pulls his shirt off to attach it properly to his body. “Jimbo, could you help me with the straps here?” He asks, turning his back to the young man, who tiredly complies. Once everything is in place and Silver feels whole again, the big man shakes out the blanket and drapes it lovingly around Jim’s shoulders.

 

“I can’t say t’anks enough, lad. Get some rest. I’ll take us out of here.” Silver gets comfortable on the bench beside Jim and wraps his organic arm around him before he starts to steer them away from the rooftop, up up into the atmosphere. If their luck holds, they’ll be out of here in no time.

 

As Jim nods off beside him, Silver can’t help but look over at him. His heart swells with pride and adoration for him--he feels like, despite the gap in years, he’s seen such a huge transformation from boy to man. It’s beyond him, the admiration that Jim holds for him, but he won’t dare push him away. He’s undeserving of such high esteem, just a broken old cyborg with a share more of sin than most.

 

When he’s sure Jim’s asleep, Silver mutters, “I love you too.”

 

===

 

Jim doesn’t wake for a solid ten hours. His body is stiff when he does, and he’s disoriented in the blackness of space for a few dreadful seconds, before he’s reminded of the presence of the comforting cyborg beside him. He thought it had all been a dream, it feels surreal to wake up to him now.

 

They don’t really speak as Jim stands up and stretches in the dome of artificial air the dinghy provides, cracking his back and his neck. He wobbles a bit and then sits back down heavily, with his back to open space so he can face the cyborg.

 

“So, it’s official,” Jim smiles, leaning back on his hands. He sighs and looks down at his lap, his smile fading. “Fifteen years later. God, I was so stupid.” he leans forward on his knees, hanging his head in his hands. “I’ve been beating the shit out of myself for years now, wishing I would have just... taken you up on that offer when you first made it. I thought I was doing the right thing, but it all just turned to so many years wasted. We could have had the last fifteen years together if I’d just said yes, but I was so fucking proud--”

 

He cuts himself off, shaking his hands through his short hair. He clears his throat and lifts his tank to scrub at his face. “No sense complaining about the past. We’ve got to plot a course for the future. Your arm is going to need some serious repairs. I heard about this old woman, ex Intergalactic Navy, kicked out for too many counts of manslaughter. She’s a fugitive too, so she shouldn’t have a problem fixing up the arm of another fugitive. We’re going to have to stop somewhere to refuel since last I heart she’s on a planet called Nessus, and this glorified life raft isn’t going to get us nearly that far in one shot.”

 

“Nessus you say? I’ve got some t’ings stashed away with a friend in that quadrant. That’ll give us some spendin’ money until we get on our feet. T’ain’t much, but it’ll be enough for us to live off for a while. He might even have some work for us, as long as you’re not averse to a little smugglin’.”

 

Silver looks over at Jim questioningly. How far would he actually go with this outlaw business? Gone are the days of being able to earn an honest living. Silver is wanted in many places all over the galaxy, and soon enough Jim’s picture will be right beside his in every public house and town square that knows of them.

 

He could still go back to the Navy and bargain with them. His sentence might be reduced if he gives up Silver, but the old man knows he wouldn’t be willing, so he doesn’t even pitch the idea.

 

Jim nods distractedly, staring out at the open stars. He feels somehow unfulfilled, like everything is too good now for him to have hope. Things have been wrong so spectacularly for so long that he’s scared to think anything good might happen to him in the future. He finally looks back over to Silver, trying not to let the fear show in his eyes.

 

“Us,” he repeats, clenching his fists. His heart leaps just at the simple word. “There’s an us now, right? I mean, can there be? Officially? Can we stick together now, for good?”

 

He doesn’t say what he really means. How scared he is to lose Silver again. Just looking at him now makes Jim’s heart race and his palms sweat. If he were to lose him now, or even a year from now, or ten years from now, it would kill him.

 

Silver looks over at Jim with a raised brow, his bright eye shining down at the young man as he takes him in. His right hand comes down firmly on the young man’s shoulder and he shakes him a little, “Hawkins and Silver.” He says, grinning. “It’s fifteen years late, but I don’t see a reason why we can’t pick up where we left off.”

 

Jim’s eyes scrunch up around tears he won’t let fall, his mouth screwing up in a strained squiggle. He closes his eyes with a nod and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “Hawkins and Silver,” he says, keeping his voice even. Everything hasn’t quite sunk in yet, he’s still waiting for something to go horrifically wrong. He’s been used to a pattern of things going wrong for so long it’s hard for him to admit to himself that something might be going right.

 

He takes over for Silver at the rudder and locks it in place to keep them going in a straight line, and ties down the sails to keep his hands busy. As he works he notices Silver just looking at him, and it fills him with warmth. Maybe the old man is as stunned as he is that everything went okay and they got away together.

 

He leans back against the little mast, standing on his heels, and he gives Silver a little smile. The man is every bit as handsome as Jim remembers him. Warm and wide and endless and sly. He could get lost in his embrace. He can swear his skin is still tingling from their shared hug before. He’s still reeling from the fact that Silver allowed his love confession to slip right by without a fuss, and the fact that he’ll still travel with Jim even knowing this fact only makes Jim’s admiration grow.

 

“So what was it like?” he asks, breaking the silence when Silver gives him a playful sneer after he’d been staring for too long. “Staring into the eyes of death. Being walked to the gallows. What were you thinking of when they put the bag over your head?”

 

“Honestly, I was t’inkin’ that I wished that priest would shut his mouth and they’d get it over with.” Silver watches Jim’s face a moment and shrugs his shoulders. “T’aint the most eloquent last t’oughts, but the way I saw it, I didn’t have much left. Me crew’d been captured, me ship was gone, I hadn’t a cent to me name . . . I’d lost you.”

 

Silver feels his heart swelling with remorse as thoughts fill his mind of all the mistakes he’d made with Jim. “I t’ought a lot about you that week. Wondered where you were, what you were doin’ . . . my t’oughts were on those last moments we had together. I wish I’d pressed you harder to join me, but I didn’t want to be selfish, Jim. You had a future.” Silver blinks back wetness in his good eye. “Blast it all.”

 

“You old sap,” Jim teases, but he can’t stop grinning as he looks down at his boots. Honestly, thinking back to that day, if Silver had pushed any harder he probably would have cracked. But he doesn’t want Silver to have that same regret hanging over him like a weight, wondering where they would be now if not for the last fifteen years wasted. He knows personally how heavy that is and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all Silver.

 

He clears his throat and puffs his chest out, dropping back down to sit on one of the benches. His heart is really pounding now. He doesn’t want to think about Silver being close to death, but knowing that he was on the old man’s mind makes him feel a little hot in the face. “It’ll probably be a couple days worth before we make it to the next planet over,” he says, looking out at the open space. “When we stop for fuel, you go looking for food and I’ll spend a little time scraping the Navy insignias and junk off this thing.”

 

They fuel up at Alcyone and spend a day laying low while they scrape the Naval insignia off of the wood, scrounge up some food and supplies and get some proper sleep. They leave the planet so early in the morning that the sun hasn’t even risen on the horizon yet. They set the course for Nessus and pray that they’re far enough out that the Navy won’t come looking for them. It isn’t as if Silver is the most wanted criminal in the universe, they likely won’t expend the manpower to search too far for him.

 

The close quarters of the boat might have given Silver cabin fever if he had been sharing the space with anyone else, but he finds that he quite doesn’t mind being so close to Jim. He’s spent so long away from him that he soaks up every second that they spend together, and he can tell that the younger man feels the same. Every time he sees him smile, Silver can’t help but think it’s been ages since that expression has seen the light of day on Jim’s face. Silver almost wishes that Nessus will never come, that they just spend forever locked in this happiness together, however tentative it is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kind of long, I apologize. There is also suggestive material within.

Four days pass in a flash. They keep each other company, Silver tells Jim stories or sings old folk songs that he’d learned in his years of sailing. Jim even knows a few of them from his time in the Navy, and they sing along together. When they come upon Nessus at midday, they descend into a hazy fog of pollution and muck that clouds their vision as they pass through the cloud layer.

 

“Any idea of where to find this this old woman?” Silver asks as they fly over one of the cities at a slow pace. The streets are alive with people and vehicles below, clogged with smog that their bubble of artificial air keeps them from for now.

 

“I heard she’s pretty well known around these parts,” Jim says, looking around them as if the woman will just fall out of the sky and land in their boat. “Her name is Sonya... Something. Starts with an H, I think. If we ask around, somebody is bound to know where she is. From what I heard she’s a very skilled engineer who just happens to be very accident prone so maybe we shouldn’t walk under any ladders in her shop.”

 

Silver takes them down to dock someplace inconspicuous, steering clear of any areas that are heavily trafficked by Naval vessels. There’s no telling if they have an APB out on Jim, at the very least, though Silver is unsure if they know of his involvement in his escape just yet. They keep to the side streets for a time, asking about after the batty woman named Sonya, and to Silver’s surprise they turn up a lead sooner than they think.

 

She apparently owns a shop in the industrial hub of the city, nearby the miner’s tram. It’s a vague approximation, and the city is large, but by asking for directions and having a fairly good sense of direction, the two of them slowly make their way to that side of town.

 

There are quite a few shops on this edge of the city, many of them supply shops for workers of all sorts. The air is thicker here with smog and junk, and it’s loud with the hustle of people moving about. The upside to it being so crowded is that Jim and Silver blend right in. No one thinks twice of Silver, who is still wearing his prison clothes.

 

When they finally find Sonya’s shop, Jim at first thinks it’s a joke. Nobody can live let alone work in a space like that. The building itself is five stories high with a pointy roof, crammed in what amounts to be a grand total of fifteen feet between two massive apartment complexes. The building is so hilariously distorted, so incredibly tall and skinny, it looks like a hologram that somebody stretched and then projected. Across the front directly above a door hangs a flickering light-up florescent sign that appears to have been frankensteined together from a dozen other signs, as every letter is a different size and font and color, reading “Bits and Bobs.”

 

“Are you seeing this?” Jim leans back to address Silver over his shoulder, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the building. Hanging from every window is some bizarre spinning perpetual motion machine, dropping little glass balls from one contraption to another in fantastical sweeping movements.

 

The rotating door that serves as the front entrance does nothing to make the building look any less whimsical, nor do the five welcome mats placed end to end in a circle inside the chamber that Silver has to squeeze into sideways. The inside of the shop is no better, with towering stacks of machinery on every table hovering so tall that there are cords threaded at about eye level around the winding narrow pathways just to prevent collapse.

 

“Hello?” Jim cups his hands around his mouth and stands on his tip toes to call towards the back of the narrow shop, where he can just barely see the top of a doorway shrouded in strings of beads over a stack of what appear to be toilet filters.

 

There’s a crash in the back and a blustery, muttered string of lilting curse words before the beads part and Jim watches the fiery orange tips of someone’s hair weave through the pathways. The labyrinthine shop seems to outsmart this person himself, and a moment later Jim sees a scowling bearded face duck between two pillars of computer and engine parts.

 

“Are you here for the bird?” he says, his words gruff and thickly tinted with a melodic Irish accent.

 

Jim tries very hard not to laugh. “We are,” he nods.

 

“Good luck finding your way to the back,” he huffs, throwing his hands up in the air as he turns on his heel, his voice slowly getting quieter as more and more layers and stacks of things are put between him and the pair of men still standing lost in the middle of the narrow shop. “I haven’t found my way out of this shop in ten years! Front door’s somewhere that way, better lay out an extension cord so you can find your way back!”

 

“You heard him Jimbo, we better find a cord. Hop to it.” Silver teases, his hand landing heavily on top of Jim’s head and he ruffles what little hair he has as he steps forward. He leads the way through the sheer mountain of stuff, which he quickly realizes is a mistake. Bits and pieces of things clatter in his wake as he tries to navigate his girthy frame through the maze of objects cluttering the path to the back of the shop.

 

They find the woman hunched over what is presumably one of her inventions. Silver enters the room first, knocks over a pile of metal scraps with a clatter and laughs nervously at all of the ruckus. He clears his throat, “Beggin’ your pardon mum, but I’m lookin’ for someone to repair this old arm of mine.”

 

The old woman sits up-- and up and up and up. She’d been crouched so low that they’d both mistaken her for a small woman, but she unwinds like a human slinky and Jim suddenly realizes why Sonya’s shop is so tall and skinny-- it fits her perfectly. She’s sitting at her full height, peering down at them like an ostrich behind glasses that amplify the size of her eyes so many times it’s like she can see _through_ them.

 

“Arm, eh?” she smiles, her wrinkled cheeks spreading into a wide grin. Her teeth are dazzling white and absurdly straight, almost inhuman as she smiles at them. “What an arm it is. I didn’t build that, did I?”

 

Silver exchanges a look with Jim and he takes a step forward, crossing the room to her. “No, you didn’t build it. It’s an old piece of mech, built a long time ago. She’s ancient by today’s standards, but it doesn’t look like that’ll be a problem for you. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had spare parts for it lyin’ around here somewhere.”

 

“I might have a whole extra arm lying around here,” she swivels around on her stool, uncrossing her long legs and smoothing her inappropriately short white dress down over her thighs, and she sweeps her long grey hair over her shoulder. She pads barefoot over to Silver, very nearly as tall as he is, and starts to circle him like a bird as she inspects the arm and socket from all angles. “What exactly is the damage?” she asks, crouching and ducking around, picking a little flashlight off a shelf to shine into all the machinery.

 

“There’s about a t’ree second delay switchin’ between modes just now, and I think the power supply’s damaged.” Silver says, watching her closely with his mechanical eye as she circles him. It’s been a long while since anyone has scrutinized this part of his anatomy, so he feels suddenly vulnerable in a way that makes him square his shoulders and tighten his muscles.

 

“Can I have it?” Sonya asks, standing up straight so abruptly that Silver has to lean back to keep his chin from getting clocked by the top of her head. Silver seems to be in shock at the question, glancing over at Jim to make sure he heard that right.

 

“He kind of needs it,” Jim blurts.

 

Sonya titters a birdlike laugh. “No, I mean can you remove it and leave it here. I’ll work easier if it’s not attached to a mountain.”

 

“Oh!” Silver guffaws a great big belly laugh and wipes his forehead. “Of course I can take it off. Jimbo--” He nods to the younger man for help and the two of them work together to unstrap the leather harness holding it tight to him. Silver hefts it easily onto a table nearby where it settles with a loud clatter.

 

“When do you expect to be done, mum?”

 

“I have no idea,” Sonya says honestly with a bright smile. “I’ve never worked with this kind of technology before so it’ll be all brand new and exciting. I would guess before the week is out but best case scenario, under three days. Do you have a place to stay? Top floor I rent rooms!”

 

From behind them comes the throaty interruption of the man from the shop earlier. He rubs his fingers together in the universal sign for money, and Sonya brightens up. “Oh, I always forget. Payment ahead of time would be silly because I don’t know how much work I’ll need to do on this big arm thing. I’ll have to give you an estimate after.”

 

She leans in and whispers loudly, winking an eye, “Don’t worry about Brogan if you can’t meet the price, he’s a big old softie. He only just looks mean.”

 

“We’ll take accommodation here.” Silver replies, turning his back on Brogan, though his eye linger over his shoulder on the man for a moment before turning to Sonya. “Thank you anyway. We’ll be seein’ you then. C’mon Jimbo.” He mumbles, turning back to see Brogan still standing there. “How much for the room?”

 

“Just the one?” Brogan lifts his eyebrows and looks between the men.

 

“Oh, Brogan,” Sonya huffs, waving her hands at him like she’s swatting flies. Brogan relents, rolling his eyes.

 

“Twenty a night,” he answers. “I recommend the fire escape in the back. Sonya’s elevator is... finicky. And the stairs inside are so narrow I can’t get up them so there’s no way you will,” he jerks his chin at Silver. “If you need free docking there’s room on the roof, I hollowed out a flat space in the middle of the pitch so you can land in the attic. Which is also accessible by a door on the top floor.

 

Jim pays the man enough for a couple of days, they’ll pay him more if their stay is extended. They pass by Brogan to leave the shop, Silver tailing along behind Jim. Once they are outside, the ursine feels as if he can breathe again at last. He isn’t looking forward to traversing the fire escape later, but he puts that thought aside.

 

“What say you Jimbo? Shall we go pay my friend a visit and see if we can’t rustle up some food?”

 

The two of them set off on foot toward the red light district. It’s nice being able to stretch their legs after three days of sitting in the cramped space of the dinghy. They pass by the tram station, leaving behind Sonya’s shop and as they travel toward the heart of the city, the buildings become progressively dingier and more cramped.

 

Tobacco shops and liquor vendors line the narrow streets where buildings are seemingly stacked atop one another. Gambling establishments advertise their winning games with tall blinking lights, while the doors and windows of brothels are awash in red lights.

 

One such building stands tall, crammed between what look like two residential buildings, but that are likely drug dens. Its high windows are illuminated with red lights while a sign overhead bears a curled mustache and letters that read, “Indaryn’s House of Delights”. Silver nods to Jim and the two of them make their way up the wide front steps and enter the place.

 

The parlor is dimly lit in shades of red and purple. There are men and women with very little clothing bringing drinks to tables or otherwise servicing patrons in other ways. Silver suddenly feels the need to shade Jim’s eyes, but he resists the urge. A topless female feline stands behind the bar serving drinks, her jet black fur catching the purple light and giving her ethereal glow.

 

“Silver,” She purrs in a low voice. “It has been a long time.”

 

“Olivia.” Silver says, offering his organic hand, and she takes it. He lifts it to his lips and kisses her gently. “Lookin’ as bonnie as ever I recall. Where is Dethulosin?”

 

“In his office. You can go up,” Olivia replies, her bright green eyes flickering over Jim, but she doesn’t say anything more as a patron slides into one of the seats demanding a drink.

 

Silver takes Jim by the hand and leads him out of the parlor and up the flight of stairs. Two landings up is Dethulosin’s office, but as they stand outside, Silver turns to Jim. “Whatever happens . . .” he starts anxiously, “I hope ya don’t t’ink less of me. He’s an old friend, and he’s a bit eccentric--”

 

He’s cut off from saying whatever he’d been about to, for the door opens and there stands a man whose person can only be described as odd. He wears a black tunic tucked into a wide, gold obi and silky black trousers embroidered with swirls of gold. Over the tunic is worn a golden vest and the turban he sports is bright vermillion with an exotic feather of rainbow colors pinned by a bright jeweled broach. His shoes curl up on the ends and wobble slightly as he takes a step forward but is impeded by the pair in the door. His bright orange mustache, a stark contrast to his deep purple skin, lifts up into a broad smile as sparkling teeth show vibrant white against his skin.

 

“Long John Silver . . .” He says in a silky baritone, his voice accented by a melodic British accent, “It has been ages. I was just going to check on things down in the parlor, but as you’re here I cannot rightfully go. It’s good to see you--well, half you. Where is your arm? Oh! And who is this?” Before Silver can say anything, he turns his attention on Jim. “My, my, my. You will make a lovely addition. Firm body, smooth skin--the haircut is a bit _butch_ , but it’ll grow in. You would look splendid with a ponytail . . .”

 

Silver feels suddenly enraged and taken aback. He’d never thought about Jim in that way before, but now that his wheels have been set in motion, it’s all he can think about. The big man steps in front of Jim, between he and Dethulosin, and starts in a flustered voice: “I didn’t bring him for that sort of business. I’m here for my t’ings.”

 

“Pity,” Dethulosin says, turning on his heel. “Come inside. Tell me about your latest adventures-- actually, first, I want to know more about this young concubine of yours. If you’re going to insist I run to the end of my chain and bark, I can at least get a sniff or two in.”

 

“Concubine!” Jim barks a laugh as he follows Silver inside, unaware of how red the ursine’s face is going, how much it matches his own racing heart. He hasn’t been flirted with so openly in years, and he’s pretty sure the last time was a joke. “Oh, please, if anything, Silver is in service to _me_. If it wasn’t for me he’d be swinging five feet off the ground right now.”

 

“Oh-ho!” Dethulosin purrs, walking to the cabinet behind his desk and opening the doors. There are various things within, not the least of which is a large safe. He begins punching in the code. “Don’t peek.” He says, waggling a finger over his shoulder. When the safe opens, he reaches all the way to the back and uncovers a chest and lifts it out, shutting the door behind him.

 

“In service to a boy half your size. Bottom is becoming of you.” Dethulosin drops his voice to a whisper and looks at Jim. “Have you figured out why they call him ‘Long John’ yet?”

 

“We ain’t like that!” Silver barks, dropping down into one of the chairs in front of Dethulosin’s desk. The Dunmer just gives a tittering laugh. The ursine’s mind is going about a thousand miles a minute, thinking about things that would have never crossed his mind years and years ago, but then . . . Jim isn’t exactly a boy anymore. When Silver finds himself actually appraising the young man, he looks away hurriedly.

 

“Come now, I know your tastes.” Dethulosin says, casually crossing one leg over the other as he lounges behind his desk. “There is no need to be so shy all of a sudden. This is an open environment.” Silver just groans and grabs for the chest. Dethulosin produces a key from one of the drawers and offers it to him.

 

“So you saved him from a hanging then? Where does that put you . . .?” Dethulosin twists his hand in the air, trying to ascertain the young man’s name.

 

“Jim,” he supplies. His heart is racing, his face is flushed, and he can’t keep the grin off his face. It was years and years ago that he came to terms with the fact that he likes men as equally as women. There was no big struggle over it, he didn’t slip into denial or fuss about it or try to lie to himself. It seamlessly became a part of his life and his person upon recognizing it eleven years ago.

 

But nevertheless, he’d never heard someone talk about it so openly or boldly, he’s never been actually flirted with by another man. Least of all did he expect the sudden revelation from Dethulosin regarding Silver’s “tastes.” There’s a chance it’s just teasing, and if it is true it leaves a lot of questions spinning in his mind in regards to his accidental love confession previously and why Silver didn’t react to it, but there will be time to agonize about that later. Right now Silver is blushing like a teenage girl and the dark-skinned man is still leering at him like he wants to eat him alive.

 

“We’re both on the run now,” he answers Dethulosin’s question. “In town for just as long as it takes Sonya to repair his arm.”

 

  
“Oh, a pity that you won’t be around for long. I would have liked to have gotten to know you a bit better, Jim.” Dethulosin sets him with a burning red gaze that glows like the embers of a fire. After a long moment of sizing him up, his brows lift and his shark grin seems to get broader, if it’s possible and he claps his hands together. “Right! Well, Jim, while you’re here I think it would be a good idea to get you out of those rags. Both of you. You simply do not look the part of outlaws on the lam. How do you feel about green or blue, Jim?”

 

Dethulosin gets to his feet and pats Silver on the paw. “You can futz about with that old chest later. Come come, get up. Let’s go.” He claps his hands in quick succession until they’re both standing bolt upright and he’s leading the way out of his office. “I run a clothing shop on the side. People often leave here without their clothes in a frenzy and are too embarrassed to come back for them--some items are procured by special means, so I have the latest in fashion here.”

 

The Dunmer leads them up the stairs, wiggling his butt just a tad more than he usually would to really give Jim a show. He can almost feel the waves of jealousy radiating off of Silver, and he eats them up like candy. They pass through the third floor, which is filled with the carnal noises of men and women fornicating in the rooms around them. A sound which Dethulosin never gets tired of. The noise dies off somewhat on the fourth floor, and Dethulosin opens one of the doors here, ushering the both of them inside. “This is where we keep the excess. When the shop gets low, we restock from here. Come inside and look around.” He shuts the door behind them and turns up the lighting.

 

All around the room, clothes are folded up in piles, along the wall there are rods holding outfit after outfit. Shoes litter the floor beneath long robes, pairs of pants, shirts, and all sorts of other garments in every color imaginable.

 

“On the end there,” Dethulosin gestures lazily to the far left end of the room, “those are all the clothes that _might_ fit you, Silver. As for you Jim, let’s look for something that fits. Just. _Right_.” Dethulosin smacks him on the bottom for effect, which stokes the fire in Silver’s belly.

 

The ursine growls under his breath, “Watch it.” before making his way over to where Dethulosin had indicated.

 

The swat to his backside shoots a lightning bolt up into Jim’s heart that has it pounding even harder. He’s reeling from how openly this man is flirting with him, his guard simultaneously going up and coming down. Part of him expects someone will jump out and shout at him that it’s just a prank, that Jim is being tested, that he should be shoving away Dethulosin’s advances-- but he doesn’t really want to. It’s exciting, getting attention like this, he’s never had it before.

 

“I’ve never really been _into_ fashion,” Jim says, as if it isn’t obvious by the boots that look like he hasn’t taken them off so much as to sleep or shower in ten years, not to mention his slightly stained tank top. “So I’ll let you pick something out but ah... no ruffles, no rhinestones. And definitely no feathers,” he splutters when Dethulosin turns his head to frown at Jim and whips him across the mouth with the very thing Jim is referring to.

 

“But those are the _best_ parts.” Dethulosin says, giving a mock pout. “Well come on, let’s find something butch enough to suit you.” Dethulosin takes Jim’s hand in his and leads him over to a section of clothes that look to be just about Jim’s size. The Dunmer begins leafing through things, stopping to admire a few tunics here and there that might look good on the young man. “I’m thinking you don’t want anything fancy, but it doesn’t matter what _you_ want.” He teases softly, rifling through the clothes. “Don’t worry, I won’t give you something that takes three hours to get into and out of. You need practical, but practical doesn’t have to mean boring. Oh now this . . .”

 

Dethulosin pulls from the curtain of clothing a vest with leather laces and pockets, the latter of which are functional, the former not so much. He watches Jim’s nose scrunch up and chuckles, “Believe me. It’ll look fabulous on you--and the laces are purely for show, so you won’t need to fuss with them. Here.” Dethulosin thrusts the vest at him and moments later produces a pair of pants of the same design. “Now, we just need to find a shirt. Something dark I think.”

 

“I’m going to look like a fancy prostitute in this,” Jim mutters with a laugh, fiddling with the laces on the hips of the pants. They aren’t bad, though, the canvas is a nice thick material, though he could do without the little laces that go up the back of the calves. Hopefully he’ll be able to wrestle a pair of boots out of Dethulosin that will cover them up so he won’t be running around with little bows on the back of his knees.

 

“And what is wrong with that?” Dethulosin asks flirtatiously, eyeing Jim up like he could eat him whole. “You’ll break hearts . . .and I’m sure you’ll catch _his_ eye.”

 

Silver is meanwhile trying to keep an eye on Dethulosin’s hands and their relation to Jim as he noisily picks through the selection of clothing in his size. He finds several frock coats, one of which has laces running down its back, another with all sorts of metal doodads hanging from its various places, and one that is far too small to fit his shoulders. He’s never been fond of laced garments, thinking them a bit froufrou for his tastes, but he’d much rather wear laces than become a walking junkyard, so he takes it down from the rod and sets it aside. At least it’s a dark brown and not some god awful shade of pink.

 

Dethulosin at last finds a shirt for Jim. A simple black affair. He has to resist the one with ruffles on the cuffs, so he pulls the first down from the closet and hands it over to Jim. “Are you a hat man, Jim? You strike me as a man in need of a tricorn, though I could be wrong.”

 

“No hats, please,” Jim shakes his head with a laugh. “I would just lose it. Silver’s the one who wears the hats, not me.” He looks down at the clothes in his arms, checking the buttons on the shirt. “Shoes, though. I got these boots the first day I was assigned in the Navy, it might be time to get a new pair.”

 

“Straight to shoes. My kind of man.” Dethulosin takes a few steps back and begins looking through the various piles of shoes. “What’s your size? About a twelve?” He looks to Jim for confirmation, and when the young man nods, Dethulosin’s smile is back. “Something with buckles, to offset all of those laces I’m thinking. We don’t want you looking like you’re being held together by twine.”

 

Dethulosin stoops and picks up a pair of boots with a cuff and two sets of buckles in black leather. He holds them up to Jim’s outfit and smiles. “Yes, I think these will do nicely. What do you think, Jim?”

 

Jim immediately makes a hesitant face. “Those are a little... I don’t know, they’re a little more Silver’s style I think. He’s the one who dresses like... well, like a pirate. I’m not really a pirate, I don’t think it’d be good for me.”

 

Part of him really wants them. They remind him of Silver, they look like boots he would wear-- or boot, rather. He would love to feel connected to Silver that way, dressed like they match, like they belong together. He would love for strangers in a crowd to be able to associate them with one another even if they aren’t standing side by side. The thought has his heart pounding. But he’s hardly a pirate. One voyage into space a million years ago and three days on the run hardly makes him much of an outlaw. He doesn’t deserve to dress like a pirate yet.

 

“Oh come now, don’t make that face. They would look splendid with this outfit. What if we try it all on first?” Dethulosin saunters up close to Jim so that their bodies are touching. He practically whispers in his ear, “Strip for me.”

 

Jim feels a sharp and surprising bolt of heat lance straight to his crotch. His stomach muscles tighten up and all the moisture leaves his mouth so suddenly it’s like a just ate a mouthful of sand. Going straight from the academy into the Navy left Jim with very little time for romance. He had a few flings with a couple girls -- all initiated by him -- but no contact with real, genuine flirting. It got to the point where he thought flirting was a myth, that it only exists in novels and on stage or screen, he was so far removed from it.

 

He finds himself willing to do almost anything for that voice. Without a thought he shoves the clothes at Dethulosin and grabs the back of his tank top, pulling it up and off his head in one fluid motion. He hears Dethulosin’s little whistle of approval at the tight muscles of his chest and belly, but his eyes are on Silver, who is pointedly looking in the other direction.

 

Opening the clasp of his military uniform cargos, he pulls them down off his legs and pries his feet out of his boots so he’s standing there in only his standard issue undershorts and socks. Nine years in the Navy have given him one strong advantage-- he is in no way uncomfortable about being completely naked in front of total strangers.

 

Dethulosin eyes him appreciatively, circling him slowly and reaching out with his free hand to touch him here and there. He cups his pec, his hand sliding over to squeeze his bicep and as he circles around to his back, he traces a line with his fingertip over his shoulder blades. The way the young man shivers under his touch makes Dethulosin feel powerful, in control and young himself. He doesn’t think too much about the consequences. When he circles back around to the front of Jim, he tosses the clothes, boots and all, onto the floor and shoves Jim back against the wall where he is enveloped by curtains of clothes on either side and soon, by an advancing Dunmer at the front.

 

He presses his long, dark body against Jim and slots his mouth into the younger man’s. Jim’s hand comes up to grip the back of his head, in doing so he tugs the turban off and it goes falling to the floor with a soft noise, but Dethulosin could care less. He wants to fuck Jim right here, wants Silver to watch and be jealous. _Maybe_ he’ll fuck Jim extra hard later for being so easily seduced. The Dunmer wishes he could watch them go at it, but for now settles for pressing his tongue between two rows of white teeth and bringing his thigh up to rub against Jim’s package.

 

Silver had been turned away, attempting to decide between a brown tunic and a red one when he’d heard the clatter of hangers and the thump of bodies against the wall. All of his horrors are realized in an instant when he turns his head to see the two men kissing against the wall. Silver’s heart sinks at one moment and soars at the next when jealousy and desire collide. He wants to walk over and tear Dethulosin off of Jim, punch him in the mouth (though he imagines the Dunmer would just laugh through bloody teeth if he did.) Alternatively, he sees himself pulling Dethulosin away and claiming what should be his by pinning Jim against the wall and . . .

 

No, no no. He can’t be thinking this way about Jim. He’d been like a son to him.

But now he’s a man, and there’s no denying that he’s attractive. More than just attractive, he has a sex drive, he now understands the concept of attraction and lovemaking--and he’s bisexual, by the look of it. Would he find Silver attractive, the Ursine wonders? Suddenly Jim’s admission of love seems to be painted in a new light. Surely that isn’t what he meant. No. He loves Silver like a father.

 

Jim’s blood is pounding so loudly in his ears that he’s practically deaf. He wishes Dethulosin had any hair for him to grab onto, but instead he just wraps his arms around his neck and hangs on for dear life. He’s _never_ been kissed like this before, but he’s fantasized about it so thoroughly that even though he’s a little clumsy in his application, his enthusiasm shines through. He’s panting hard through his nose, his blood taking an embarrassingly fast route south with the aid of Dethulosin’s rubbing thigh.

 

“Oh my god,” he whispers out a groan involuntarily, tipping his head back as Dethulosin’s kisses make their way down his throat. He’s utterly blind to the rest of the world, he can’t even remember where he is or what they were doing, the only thing he can consider is the man’s hands on his hips, his thigh between his legs, and his lips on his shoulder.

 

But then he opens his eyes, and he’s looking directly into Silver’s. 


	4. Chapter 4

Silver’s big paw lands on Dethulosin’s shoulder and tugs him away. The Dunmer is laughing all the way as he’s pulled back and collides with Silver’s gut. “What exactly do you t’ink you’re doin’?” His eye shines red down at Dethulosin, who is grinning like a fool.

 

“Oh, just a bit of fun. He obviously isn’t complaining.”

 

“There’s no tellin’ where your mouth’s been!” Silver says, shoving Dethulosin off to the side. He stoops quickly and shoves Jim’s clothes at him, keeping his eyes purposefully above the young man’s waist. “Get dressed, Jimbo.” His voice softens a bit. “You’ll get cold.”

 

“Oh yeah, that’s why he needs to get dressed. Since when did you shrivel up?” Dethulosin snaps, Silver rounds on him.

 

“Heaven help you if you don’t shut your claptrap . . .”

 

Dethulosin hears the edge of danger in Silver’s voice and decides to back down for now. The Ursine gives Jim a lasting look before going back to his end of the room. Silver’s heart is pounding out of his chest. He’d very nearly clocked Dethulosin for touching Jim. He convinces himself that his hostility is born out of fatherly concern, but it nags at the back of his mind as he sorts through the clothes that it’s much more than that.

 

Jim stays leaned back up against the wall for a bit, his legs a little too shaky to support him. He clutches his clothes to his belly, draping them over his crotch where he’s sporting an embarrassing half-mast. He tips his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, breathing through his nose for a few moments before he looks up and makes eye contact with Dethulosin while he re-situates his turban back on his head.

 

The glance that they share is heated, but brief, as Jim looks away and back over to Silver, trying to process what just happened. He had clearly not been protesting, so Silver couldn’t have been coming in to rescue him. The only thing he can think of is that Silver is still thinking of him as the fifteen year old boy he used to know him as-- in which case he’s going to need to have a talk with him at some point about not cock blocking him every time he has a chance to get lucky.

 

On the one hand, he’s a little bit frustrated. He’s not sure he’ll ever get the chance to experience that again any time soon-- if ever, if Silver keeps reacting like this. But that’s only a very small part of him, the rest of him is grateful that it got broken up when it did. He has no doubts that Dethulosin would have fucked him right up against the wall if he hadn’t been stopped, which while it is an exciting fantasy, he’s not sure he’d want to give his actual first time to some sleazy bald guy in a robe while the love of his life watches.

 

He stoops to step into the trousers when he’s sure he won’t be sporting an embarrassing bulge, and shimmies them up his legs. The pants are tight-fitting enough that they won’t catch on anything, but not so tight they restrict his movements. He tightens the laces at his hips and the back of his shins so they fit him just right before pulling the black button-down shirt on over his shoulders. Before he even does up the buttons, he rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, and then starts working the buttons up from the bottom. He almost buttons it up to his chin like his mother always used to insist, before realizing that’s not very piratey, and he leaves two buttons open to display the chest hair he started sporting in his early twenties.

 

He jams his shirt down into his open pants before fastening the button and zipper, and reaching for a belt to thread through the loops. He steps into the boots a little warily and then shrugs on the vest that matches the pants. Altogether he looks like a pirate-- albeit a very form-fitted and borderline metrosexual pirate.

 

“You don’t think this is too stupid?” Jim asks, stepping out from the mirror he was standing in front of so the other two men can see.

 

“Nooo!” Dethulosin shrieks, clapping his hands together. “You look absolutely delectable-- and I can still take you seriously, it’s perfect. What do _you_ think, silver?”

 

The big man had turned his back to the others in the room to tug on the red tunic. Leaving the laces at the neck untied, he turns back around to see Jim’s outfit and his heart leaps into his throat. Somehow the outfit is more enticing than the clothes he’d been sporting before. They hug his frame, accentuate his every curve and muscle without looking too desperate. Silver realizes his mouth is agape and closes it promptly.

 

“Looks good, Jimbo.” He manages to say after clearing his throat. “You look . . . good.”

 

“Oh don’t be such a prude, he looks _sexy_ , just say what you want to say.” Dethulosin says, waving a hand through the air. Silver growls something under his breath and tugs the brown coat on over his shirt. The arm hangs loose where he’s missing a limb. He’ll have to cut it off when he gets his arm back.

 

Jim’s heart is fluttering at Silver’s simple compliments. They feel like so much more than Dethulosin’s prattling, as he must compliment people all the time. Jim looks Silver over, pleased to see him tucking the tunic in to the new pair of pants he found, so it hugs his belly like it used to. Jim thinks his belly might be a little smaller than it used to be-- either that or he’s just grown bigger so Silver doesn’t look quite so massive by comparison. Whatever the case, in Jim’s honest (and in no way biased) opinion, he could stand to be a little bigger.

 

When Silver turns around and Jim sees the laces up the back of his coat that harken to his own outfit, his heart leaps again. They really do match. He glances down at the laces on his own hip and tries not to grin like an idiot.

 

“You’re gonna wear a hat, right?” he pulls a tricorn cap off a mannequin head and yanks the long feather out of it before reaching up and dropping it intentionally backwards on Silver’s head. He fixes the collar of his new coat in the back, flattening it over his massive shoulders and dropping his voice so Dethulosin can’t hear it from where he’s over trying to find a belt to fit Silver. “Thank you. And, I’m sorry.”

 

Dethulosin looks intentionally away from the pair and occupies himself with straightening out some of the clothes that got ruffled during he and Jim’s tryst. They likely a need a moment together. Hopefully his little display will have stirred Silver’s envy up enough to get him to do something with Jim, for Jim’s sake. The young man had seemed so desperate for it that he must not have been touched in quite some time.

 

Silver drops his big paw onto Jim’s shoulder and fixes him with a conflicted gaze. One corner of his mouth draws down and he shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten in the way. You’re a man now, I need to respect that.”

 

Jim smirks and shoves Silver by the chest. “Shut up,” he laughs, his cheeks going a little red. “You, respect me? Doesn’t even belong in the same sentence.”

 

He heads back over to Dethulosin, leaving Silver spluttering, to help him pick out a belt. The more he thinks about it, the more grateful he is that they were interrupted. He’s not exactly a prude but he’d like to think that his first time should be more special than fucking amongst a bunch of stranger’s clothing. However, the anger and dare he say jealousy it sparked in Silver have his blood pumping, and he wants to see that again sometime. It’s probably the closest he’ll get to actual intimacy with Silver.

 

“Hey, so,” he whispers to Dethulosin when Silver is checking out the hat in a mirror. “How do I... you know. I mean, is jealousy a good... tactic? Have you ever seduced him?”

 

“Once. He was very drunk.” Dethulosin says, shooting Jim a smile over his shoulder before turning back to the task at hand. “He’s a big softy at heart, so I think you may need to be a bit more subtle than stirring up his ire in the future. Are you two having sex at all?”

 

Jim’s heart catches in his throat at the very thought and shakes his head silently. Even trying to imagine having sex with Silver has his thoughts scattering to the wind out of a mixed and misguided cocktail of respect, nerves and shame. “It doesn’t seem possible,” he shakes his head. “He knew me when I was just a kid, I think he still thinks I’m a kid.”

 

“Well you’re going to have to show him you aren’t a kid anymore.” Dethulosin offers, at last turning to Jim. He rests both hands on the young man’s shoulders and looks him over. “You just need to let him know what you want, he’ll figure it out if you make it loud and clear.”

 

Jim grits his teeth, glancing over at Silver with a grimace. “What if he kicks me out?” he frets. “If he’s not interested and I push-- I already told him I love him and he didn’t even react so if I keep pushing he could eject me. I can’t be on my own again, I can’t lose him again--” he realizes he’s babbling and cuts himself off by snapping his teeth shut.

 

“If he kicks you out you can come live with me. I’ll give you some work--and I’m not talking about prostitution. I can tell you’re a sly sort. You’d fit in with the rest of my men--but I don’t think he’ll kick you out. For all his blustering and posturing, Silver is a sweetie at heart, I’m sure you know this. If you mean as much to him as I think you do, he won’t be throwing you to the curb any time soon. Maybe he misunderstood you when you said you loved him. It’s possible he still views you like a son, for lack of a better word. You just need to show him you’re not a boy anymore. I’m not saying you have to dangle your cock in front of his face.” Dethulosin laughs at the imagery. “But maybe try to flirt with him a little. It might take some time, but if he feels the same way about you, he’ll open up.”

 

Jim shoves Dethulosin away and snatches the belt up as soon as Silver turns around. He clears his throat, trying to relax some of the storming in his head, and carries it over to him to hand it off. He’ll have to switch tactics, as much as Silver’s jealousy was thrilling. If he can get away with it though, he’ll indulge again sometime.

 

With them both dressed and Silver’s chest retrieved, Dethulosin gives Jim a farewell kiss on the cheek as well as a wink for good luck, and they shove out to hopefully track down a place they can grab a bite to eat. Whereas before they were blending into the crowds without a problem, in their new regalia people part around them like the Biblical sea.

 

“So what’s in that chest anyway?” Jim asks, trying to break Silver out of whatever thoughts are giving him his hard grimace and stiff posture.

 

“Savings mostly, money for us to live off of until we can get on our feet. It’s enough to last a while, especially if we’re smart. There’s an old map too, somethin’ I lifted off a raid a long time ago.” He gives Jim a sidelong glance. “It’s supposed to lead to treasure. Nothin’ the likes of what we saw way back then, but nothin’ to sneeze at either. There’s a pistol as well, though I’m not sure if it works just now.”

 

Silver has decided to try and forget what he saw back at Dethulosin’s place. In the future he’ll rein himself in better, he can’t have Jim thinking he’s got feelings for him, even if Silver’s honest he’s got more than fatherly love for Jim. He’s grown into a fine, handsome young man, but Silver doesn’t consider himself good enough for Jim. He needs someone young and spry enough to keep up with him.

 

They walk up the streets, the bawdy houses become less and less and give way to commercial areas of the city. Red lit windows become signs advertising legal help and loan services and intermingled here are restaurants and street vendors. Silver leads Jim up to a little restaurant called The Flowing Flagon, which looks to be a public house affair who likely cater to a wide variety of visitors.

 

Inside it’s a dark atmosphere lit by a big fireplace and lots of lanterns. It has a similar atmosphere to the Benbow Inn, which Silver thought might appeal to the young man. A woman dressed in a white frock and a red apron greets them hastily and bids them to sit down. They take a table in the corner where they won’t be bothered and Silver deposits his chest on the floor beside his chair.

 

Jim glances around with a frown, trying not to make the parallels that Silver was aiming for. He clears his throat and sips the water offered to them, massaging at his forehead. The last place he wants to imagine is being back home again. The woman comes by again to take their orders, but Jim finds he doesn’t have much of an appetite despite not eating since last night. The combination of nerves and unfond memories have his stomach twisting up.

 

He orders a simple stew that he’ll likely barely pick at and scrubs at his short hair, looking for anything to change the subject. “Do you think I should grow my hair out again?” it’s a weak start, but it’s better than the silence that was hanging between them.

 

Silver looks across at Jim and sizes him up, his mouth drawing into a straight line. “Well, the military look doesn’t suit you . . . that old rat tail you used to have said somethin’ about your character. If you wanted to go back to that, I wouldn’t complain.”

 

The serving girl returns with a basket of bread with butter and honey, which Silver jumps on immediately. He notes Jim seems depressed and wonders if his little stunt back at Dethulosin’s was still nagging at him. Silver butters his bread and drizzles a little honey on it and before taking a bite he says quietly, “I’m sorry lad. Should have had more tact than I did back there.”

 

“What?” Jim looks up from where he’d been staring distractedly into the dancing flame of a candle. “Oh, oh, no, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want-- he’s not exactly what I envisioned when I pictured, you know,” he laughs, embarrassed, and looks down at his hands. “It’s stupid. I’m more of a sap than I thought, I guess. You’ll think it’s ridiculous. But I want the first time I have sex to be more... special, or whatever. Stupid. But in any case I’m not upset. He was good looking but he’s not exactly scrapbook material.”

 

Silver laughs quietly, “Well, I’m not the best judge of that sort of thing, but I’ll take your word on it.” Inwardly he’s fuming. Dethulosin, while an old friend, isn’t worth losing something so important to. Silver has to remind himself that it isn’t up to him to decide who Jim has sex with, but he can’t help but feel protective over him.

 

Then the worst thought of all crosses his mind. What if Jim’s first time is with him? He’s sure he looks very suddenly ill, so he tries to clear his expression and look anywhere but at Jim. He shouldn’t think such things. Jim might physically be a man, but he’s still so young compared to Silver that the age difference alone should be enough to put him off.

 

Should be, but the thoughts still nag at Silver. He crams more bread into his mouth so he doesn’t say something stupid.

 

The silence between them stretches on for an infinity it seems. Silver doesn’t know what to say to clear the air. There must be words, but he can’t grasp them just now. Instead of lingering on their previous subject, he clears his throat and starts, “What should we do when we get off this planet? I t’ink we need to set our sights on a new ship. Something with a wee bit of leg room would be good.”

 

Jim laughs his assent. “Something that moves a little faster, maybe,” he agrees. The Navy dinghies aren’t really meant for deep space travel, and getting between planets takes days and days. They’d been plain lucky that Nessus was so close by, and even so it’s just the next planet over from the Navy base. They’re going to need to put a lot more distance between themselves and the main station to be safe.

 

He scratches at the stubble on his chin in thought. “We’re going to need to get either a crew, or something only two men can pilot. And if it’s all the same to you I’d rather we don’t try to break out your old crew.”

 

“As far as they know, I’m long gone and I’d sooner keep it that way.” Silver has strong suspicions that many members of his crew had been in on the coup that had landed him in jail and on the fast track to swinging from the gallows, so he held little loyalty in his heart for them. “I’ve got someone on Semele who owes me a favor. She owns a scrapyard--she might have something that’s in good enough shape for us.”

 

Jim props his chin up on his knuckles with a smile. He tries to imagine what it would be like, traveling around and knowing so many people that all over the galaxies people owe him favors. His heart skips when he realizes that might be his reality now. He might be a real pirate with Silver, this could be the rest of his life, provided Silver never abandons him, which is still a silent ever-present fear in the back of his mind.

 

He finally picks up a piece of bread himself and butters it, but forgoes the honey before biting into it. “Something big enough for a small crew? Would we be co-captains or would you force me to be cabin boy again?” he grins, licking butter from the corner of his mouth.

 

“Cabin Boy? No, no no.” Silver says, resting his heavy elbow on the table and leaning in toward Jim. “First Mate. You’d be in charge right after me. Everyone will have to answer to what you say--and if somethin’ ever happens to me, you’re in charge until I convalescence. How does that sound?” Silver pops the last of his piece of bread into his mouth and reaches for another.

 

Jim is more than happy to defer control to Silver. He has absolutely no idea how to be a pirate captain-- he didn’t even learn how to command in the Navy. He has a lot of experience on boats and he knows a crap ton about sailing, but command isn’t something they ever taught him.

 

“That sounds perfect,” he he fiddles with the crust of his bread. “But if anything ever happens to you I’m gonna kick your ass.”

 

“Of that I have no doubt, Jimbo.” The older man laughs, flashing a wink at Jim. Their dinner comes and the conversation from there on out is a little easier. Silver thinks that perhaps they can continue on like they had been before the incident at Dethulosin’s. Their conversation about getting a ship seems to have perked Jim up a little bit at least.

 


	5. Chapter 5

They finish eating and the two of them exit the Flowing Flagon, heading back toward the needle-like building that is Sonya’s place. By the time they get in it’s drawing close to sunset, the city is certainly a huge place to traverse on foot. They take the fire escape up, the entire way Silver is thoroughly convinced that the metal will give out under his weight and is relieved when it holds fast.

 

When they enter the room that Brogan had assigned them, Jim can’t help but laugh. There’s a single queen sized bed inside, a small personal bathroom with just a toilet and a sink in it, and a narrow little daybed couch. His heart leaps again as it has so many times that evening as he considers what it would be like to share a bed with Silver, but he pushes the thought away as soon as it comes.

 

“I see what he meant now when he was surprised we only wanted one room,” Jim chuckles as he drops down on the couch and starts removing his new boots. “You take the bed, I don’t think you’d fit on this thing sideways.”

 

Silver too pictures himself sharing a bed with Jim, but he quickly stows the thought away for later and sits on the edge of the bed with a groan. He shrugs out of his coat and tosses it and his hat into a heap on the floor before kicking off his one boot and lying back on the bed, his arm tucked behind his head.

 

“Nice to lay on somethin’ apart from a wooden bench.” Silver admits, closing his eyes. He can feel Jim looking at him, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes to check and see if he’s really being stared at. The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, during which Silver drifts off and dreams of confessing his feelings to Jim.

 

They spend the next couple of days doing things around town to keep them occupied. Silver feels they should return to Dethulosin’s to see if the man has any work for them, but since the incident with he and Jim, the Ursine feels it’s prudent to keep the two far away from each other. Maybe he’s still being a tad overbearing, but the thought of Jim with anyone else is tearing him apart.

 

He tries not to focus on it and instead sets his mind to planning out their next move. It’ll take a while to get to Semele in the dinghy, but he’s certain that Jewel will have something for them, and even if she doesn’t she’ll know where to get one; and she owes him big for saving her hide back on Carnibyss.

 

Every day they check back in with Sonya to see where she’s at on the arm, and as they descend the stairs on the third day and weave their way through her shop, they find her in a slight frenzy in the back, looking all over, muttering to herself, climbing over stacks of items and around columns of junk with agility that no woman her age should have.

 

“Uh, Sonya?” Jim calls out after the two of them watch her for a few moments. “Can we help you with something?”

 

She fixes her magnified stare on them, looking incredibly flustered. “Oh,” she trills. “Ohh.... I seem to have misplaced the arm. I swear it was here a few hours ago. It’s gone, but I’ll find it, don’t worry, I’ll find it!” she flashes them a grin and climbs over a table, disappearing into stacks of machinery and scrap.

 

Silver’s heart leaps into his throat and he has to fight his first instinct to shout at her in anger. He shouldn’t go screaming at someone so flighty, especially not an old woman. He might be a pirate, but he has _some_ sense.

 

“Where did you have it last?” Silver inquires, thought there’s no keeping the edge of frustrated worry out of his voice.

 

“It was on my table,” she insists, her voice carrying from the back of the room, utterly enveloped by stuff. “Don’t worry, I’ll find it, I will!”

 

Jim has covered his face with both hands, sighing. He’s embarrassed and frustrated-- he’d suggested this lady, and now she goes and loses an entire three hundred pound arm. It’s not exactly small, how could she even lose something so large?

 

Silver pinches the bridge of his broad nose between thumb and forefinger, trying desperately not to start cursing. He stalks over to her table and begins looking it over, stooping down and looking beneath to see if it fell down there. There’s no way she could have lifted it, so if anyone knows where it is he assumes the big ginger man from before would probably know where it is, as he’s the only person who could have lifted it.

 

“Brogan!” Silver calls out at the top of his lungs, expelling at least some of his nervous anger. He’ll be damned if he’s paying this woman if the thing’s gone for good.

 

The large man stoops through another doorway draped with beads. He doesn’t look at all ruffled, glancing over at where Sonya is squirreling up a ladder to check a shelf. He waves them over, holding the beads open for them as Jim and Silver duck through. The room is stacked with all sorts of inventions in much neater rows, and Silver’s arm can be plainly see lying under a cloth. Both Silver and Jim exhale in relief.

 

“You’re quick,” he says, pulling the cloth off to reveal the arm in exactly the same state it was in before. “She finished the blueprints. All the repairs needed are on here,” he says, handing a rolled up piece of paper to Silver. “She’s brilliant with engineering... less so with application. There’s a man on Erebus, specializes in robot limbs. Doctor Palmer. Take your arm and these plans there, and he’ll have it in working order and definitely _not_ exploding at random.”

 

Jim sighs and leans back against a wall, scrubbing his face anxiously. He’d been terrified he caused Silver to lose his arm for good. The old man wouldn’t have forgiven him for that one. Silver wipes his face with his hand and smiles, relieved. “T’ank the stars. What do I owe you for it?” He asks, retrieving his coinpurse from his pocket. It’s just a fraction of what’s in the chest, and he pays out most of it to Brogan, but hopefully they’ll be able to get it fixed up properly on Erebus.

 

"What about Sonya?" Jim asks, looking back in the direction where the old woman is still scrambling around.

 

"Don't worry about her," Brogan shakes his head. "I have to do this with every job she gets. She always forgets what she was looking for after a few hours and goes to do something else. By dinner time she'll have forgotten you two were even here."

 

Jim frowns. "Why do you let her keep taking jobs if you have to step in before they're done?"

 

"She's old, not dead," Brogan says gruffly. "She still deserves her livelihood, and she's still got to make a living. If you don't like it, you could just leave the arm here. I'm sure there's plenty tech in there she would love to scrap."

 

"No, that'll be all," Silver chuckles hastily and hefts the arm up onto his shoulder, his other hand coming down on Jim's shoulder. They thank Brogan again for Sonya's service, and they take the arm back up to their room to regroup.

 

There’s no harm in attaching the thing again. Despite the delay of the gears, it gives Silver a sense of symmetry and helps with the achy phantom limb syndrome that he suffers with in its absence. Carefully he uses the scissors in the array of tools in his arm to cut the sleeves off of his garments, it’s a tricky thing with the pause its suffering from, but slowly but surely it gets the task done.

 

“We might be spendin’ the last of my savings on this old thing.” Silver tells Jim, tugging his shirt back on. “I’d almost say it’s not worth the money, but bein’ apart from it’s been hell these last couple of days. The sooner we leave here, the sooner we can be off on our own. Unless you can t’ink of any business we have left here, I’d like to be underway as soon as possible.”

 

“I’m ready to be off this planet,” Jim says, glancing out the window at the smoggy streets. “We’re going to want to stock up a lot and get to Semele first, probably, that’ll be almost two weeks in this damn dinghy. It’ll be much quicker to Erebus after that, once we get a ship with a proper warp engine. Let’s try to sneak out of here without Sonya seeing, in case she wants to make the repairs herself. I think we’d both prefer you don’t explode.”

 

They take the dinghy to the marketplace and stock up on plenty of food and supplies for them to make the trip. Jim notices he’s getting a few more glances his way from women especially because of his new outfit and generally improved mood and confidence. He’s not exactly in the market to be hooking up, but he can’t help but hold his chin a little higher or wink at a couple girls if they stare at him with their friends. And it has the added benefit of always getting Silver’s attention if he notices.

 

Loaded up with fuel and food and extra sails, they shove off into the open space. As soon as they’re out of the smothering density of the city, Jim feels like he can breathe again. He craves open space, the total freedom and serenity that only the stars provide. Something about being bound with gravity to a planet makes him feel so suffocatingly trapped.

 

The ship isn’t exactly better, however. While they enjoy one another’s company, there’s no opportunity to walk around or truly be alone with their thoughts. They talk much of the time, just to fill the silence, but their topics are shallow at best. Jim refrains from bringing up anything about his personal feelings for Silver, and definitely steers them away from the subject of family or his mom back home. They talk mostly about where they’re going after Silver’s arm is repaired, what plans they have for the future.

 

Sleeping isn’t very comfortable, for the most part they lean up against one another because it’s warmer and more comfortable than the little wooden benches. Their meals are all cold and dry and they have nothing to look at but one another’s face, but despite all of that, Jim is happier than he has been in years and years.

 

There isn’t anywhere that either of them can go to be alone, and by day three in their little journey, Silver starts to feel like he might burst at the seams with excess energy. There’s so much to be done on board a ship that one rarely notices how long a trip is, but stuck in what amounts to one spot on a tiny dinghy in the middle of space suddenly makes it clear to him the length of time that’s required to travel. Of course, a bigger ship would have better engines, so travel time would be shorter if they had a proper vessel. Silver and Jim are both counting the days until they reach Semele and they can hopefully procure a bigger vessel.

 

It’s a ten day trip in the tiny boat. Silver can’t say as he’s tired of seeing Jim, as he’s missed him for far too long to be truly tired of him, but he’s ready for a change of scenery. They’re both restless and bored as the tenth day closes in and much of their conversation has slipped into silence, though it isn’t terribly uncomfortable. Silver had brought up his mother at one point, but Jim had been so bitter about the subject that he’d quickly dropped it in lieu of something more upbeat.

 

When they arrive at Semele, it’s a sight for sore eyes. Two space stations orbit the medium sized planet, being very much tiny planets in their own right; but for now they pass them by and head straight down for the planet herself. It isn’t as dense with smog as Nessus had been, that much is clear as they descend into the atmosphere of the western hemisphere, which is pitch dark in the dead of night. Silver reassures Jim that she’ll be up. If he knows Jewel well enough, she’s going strong on six cups of coffee and looking to sleep when she’s dead.

 

Silver takes them down over the city, barely scraping past chimneys and rooftops as they whiz silently through the air, propelled only by the engines. Jim ties the sails down and glances over the side of the boat to view the city as it passes them by. Ten minutes of flying has them coming down over an expansive scrap yard. There is a sprawling building at the north side of the fence that contains the place. Silver takes them down behind the building and they tie the boat up to the fence so it doesn’t go anywhere.

 

The Ursine navigates the yard easily, passing by doors until they reach one in particular and he raps quickly. When there is no response, he presses his ear up against the door and listens closely. From inside, he can hear the thrashing tunes of some god awful industrial music thrumming through the place. Knowing he risks a punch to the face, he opens the door and leads Jim inside.

 

The music is suddenly louder and as they wind their way through a hall, it picks up louder still. Down the hall is a room with its door wide open and sitting behind a work table is a curvaceous panther, her tail twitching fitfully seemingly in time with the slamming beat of the music. From beneath the desk, a robot no more than knee high to a human comes whirring toward them, its red light blinking. Spray painted across it in red and white is a huge, crooked smiley face. The cat behind the table doesn’t seem to have noticed that the thing had scooted off toward the hall.

 

It seems to recognize Silver, as much as a robot with absolutely no expression can. It circles him twice and heads back up the hall, turning on its four wheels to be sure they’re following. Silver motions for Jim to stay back when they get to the door, not wanting him to get hurt, and he makes his way forward.

 

When his hand comes down on Jewel’s shoulder, the expected reaction occurs. She screams at the top of her lungs and turns as quick as her reflexes will allow her and takes a swing at Silver’s face. He puts up his arm to guard himself and her punch lands harmlessly on his forearm.

 

“Oh fuck,” Jewel says, her husky voice barely audible over the music. “I’m kinda busy here.” She indicates the project she’s been working on and shakes her head, annoyed. When she hops off the stool, it’s apparent just how short she is. The top of her head barely comes up to the bottom of Silver’s chest. She walks over to shut off her music and everything is suddenly very quiet. “Ain’t seen you in a year or two. You look like crap.”

 

“It’s good to see you too.” Silver says with a laugh, and she punches him playfully in the arm. “Man, how long are you in town. We could go tear up the strip joints if you’re up for it.”

 

Silver coughs and glances over at the doorway. Jewel’s eyes follow and she laughs. “Oh, you’ve got a boyfriend now. Damn, I didn’t know you liked ‘em so young. Way to go, Silver.”

 

She saunters over and looks Jim dead in the eye, offering him her hand. “Jewel. Just Jewel. Let me guess . . .” she frames his face in her hands and squints up at him. “Dan. Yeah you look like a Dan.”

 

Jim’s face instantly explodes with collar and he’s startled into a spluttering laugh. Why is it people keep mistaking them for a couple? Never in his life has he been mistaken for the romantic company of another man. Does he have a look about him? Or are Silver’s ‘preferences’ so well known amongst all his friends? Either way, he shakes his head with a crooked smile.

 

“Jim,” he corrects, shaking her hand. “Just Jim.” with an opportunity to tease Silver dropped directly in his lap, he takes it without hesitation. “And I’m not his boyfriend, I’m his _husband.”_

 

“Oh fuck, I missed the wedding.” Jewel says, snapping her fingers through the air and turning on Silver after their little introduction. “So what’re you here for? If I know you it’s not just a social call.”

 

“You’d be right.” Silver replies, still a bit flustered by Jim’s answer. “Me and Jim are in a bit of tight spot. We’re lookin’ for a ship t--”

 

“Right.” Jewel cuts him off and taps a finger against his chin. “I might know a guy.”

 

“That sounds like you want somethin’ in return.” Silver says warily. Jewel shrugs her shoulders.

 

“Business is business Silver. This shit ain’t free--and before you go tellin’ me I owe you a favor, you’re right, but this guy that I know, he’s a real pain in the fucking ass.”

 

“Jewel, I got nothin’.” Silver sputters, gesturing wildly toward the door. “I just got out of jail and I’m livin’ on the last of me savings.”

 

“That is a sad story.” Jewel says, stroking her chin. Her dark mouth draws into a tight line and she looks him over. She doesn’t generally go back on her promises or like to owe anyone for anything, but Jack is such a pain to deal with she’d sooner never see his face again. “Alright, but you’re coming with me. If I’m going to suffer, you’re going to suffer.”

 

“T’anks lass.”

 

“Don’t call me lass or I’ll punch you again.” Jewel snaps playfully, her cheeks secretly burning under her fur at being called such a thing. “You two can stay the night here. We’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon--this guy doesn’t get up until like three o’clock--not that I’ve got a lot of room to talk. C’mon, I’ll show you guys where you’re sleeping.”

 

She turns and looks at the little robot that’s been sitting quietly in the corner of the room since they’d entered. “Hamlet. Stay.” She waggles her finger at him and walks past Jim, back into the hall.

 

“I don’t have a whole lot of extra space here, so you boys’ll be staying in the living room. There’s a couch that pulls out into a bed and a chair. I’ll let you fight over who gets what--or you could just sleep with each other, since you’re _married_.” She teases over her shoulder and Silver gives Jim a sidelong look that might be flustered longing. He would secretly love to lay with Jim, but he’s fairly certain the idea would repulse the younger man. He should be repulsed. If he keeps thinking about Jim like this he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

 

“Who is this person you don’t fancy talkin’ to?” Silver asks as they walk through the hall.

 

“Jack.” She practically spits his name. “You’ve only met him once or twice. He’s a real sour fucking sort and a goddamn misogynist to boot. He’s got no shame, and normally I’d like . . . admire someone like that, but he’s just--I dunno man he just gives me the heebie jeebies, ya know?”

 

Silver vaguely remembers someone named Jack, but he can’t recall a personality, so he just takes Jewel’s word for it. When they come to the room she’d mentioned, they’re met by a room bathed in black light with posters littering the walls. There’s a pool table in the center of the room, a dart board on one wall, a big black couch and a bright red chair up against one wall. Several large bookcases are overflowing with tomes of all sorts, and a big white and black checkered rug brings the whole affair together.

 

“Here ya go. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Play pool or whatever you want, just don’t touch that bookshelf over there with all the binders and shit on it. That’s my blueprints. I know it looks like crap, but I got a system okay?” She reaches up and slaps Silver in the chest. “Goodnight buddy. See ya Jimmy.”

 

Jim stands dumbly in the doorway of the room. He’s known all his life-- as has most of the universe--that there are some clear and massive culture barriers between corners of the galaxies. He’s seen holograms and photographs of some places that are all white, where the people wear only white and silver, weirdly shaped clothing and hairstyles that make them look more like anthropomorphic toothbrushes than people. He’s seen photographs of places where everything is square and chrome and black, and other places where everything seems to be wall-to-wall mirrors. It’s no secret that one corner of the universe decided to regress back to the traditional garb of millenia past. It’s comfortable, it’s practical, it’s charming, and it’s easy.

 

But despite knowing this, Jim has never actually been exposed to it. It feels like he was dropped into another dimension, squinting at the weird purple lighting that makes Silver’s teeth glow when he smiles at Jim.

 

“I’ll, uhh... take the chair,” he says quietly after a moment.

 

“Just t’ink Jimbo, this time tomorrow, you and me could be sailin’ in a ship all our own. Somethin’ we can really stretch our legs out in, and we can get rid of that old sloop outside.” Silver sets to pulling the futon out of the couch. He’s not very tired just now, but it’ll be nice just to stretch out and take a load off.

 

The bed pulls out easy enough. Jewel had neglected to give them pillows or blankets, but it isn’t particularly cold in the room, so neither of them complain. Jim has fallen into the chair with his legs draped over the arm. Silver shucks his coat and hat and descends onto the bed with a loud groan, showing his age.

 

The two of them talk for a little while longer before they decide to go to sleep, if only to pass the time. Even the kinky angle Jim is forced to sleep in is more comfortable than sitting upright on the bench seat of the boat with his back to silver. Still, the contact had been nice, and Silver longs for that as he wakes up a few times and catches sight of Jim sleeping peacefully in his seat. 


	6. Chapter 6

When they awake early the next morning, they find that Jewel seems to have crashed at some point in her own bed, so the two of them head out for a quick meal and return before she wakes up. They wile away the time playing pool or darts together, which is an amazing reprieve from the lack of activity to be had on the dinghy.

 

Jewel wakes up some time around noon--they can hear her banging about in the kitchen, doubtlessly looking for a cup of coffee. Even in the daylight, the room is awash in the strange purple glow since jewel has spray painted the windows completely black in the room. She comes in after a few minutes with a pot of coffee in one hand, a mug in the other, dressed in nothing but a beat up black sports bra and a pair of boxer shorts.

 

“Did you two knuckleheads sleep well?” She asks, padding to the pool table and interrupting their game by sitting on it and pouring herself a cup of coffee. Silver straightens up with a frown. He’d been losing anyways.

 

They talk for a little while as Jewel gets her bearings. Finally she slinks away from the pool table and goes to get dressed, returning in no time in a skull tee shirt that doesn’t quite cover her chubby tummy and a pair of raggedy old blue jeans. She instructs them to follow her and they all leave the place together.

 

They pile into a ship that looks to have been cobbled together from parts of other vessels. It looks very much like something Jim would have built in his youth. Its ragged sails unfurl and sparkle in the daylight, fueling the systems up as they all get settled in the seats. It’s bigger than the dinghy, but not by much. Jewel reassures them: “We’re just going up to Calliope, don’t worry she’ll get us there.”

 

The thing is set in motion shortly and the three of them are off, heading up and up and up. “Where are you two headed if you get this ship?” Jewel asks over her shoulder as the pass over the cloud layer.

 

“Erebus.” Silver replies. “To get me arm fixed.”

 

“Fixed? I been telling you to scrap that thing for years.”

 

“Hey,” Jim defends indignantly. “Silver’s arm is one of the best things about him, it’s strong and unique, it’s his his signature. I spent way too long carrying that thing on my back to listen to anyone trash it.” What he doesn’t say is just how safe it makes him feel, how when he was a child and he would feel Silver’s mechanical arm wrap around him, it was like nothing in the world could touch him, not a black hole or all the distance and heartache in the universe.

 

“Take it easy kid.” Jewel says, putting a hand up. “Sorry I said anything, alright? Let’s keep it mellow.”

 

Silver however feels himself melt right down in his seat when Jim defends him. He’d always seen his mechanical bits as a shame. A whole heap of stupid mistakes had accumulated to create the necessity for them, but to know how fond Jim is of them casts them in a new light, makes him feel a little less freakish for being a quarter machine.

 

Calliope is within sight hanging heavily in the starry sky. It’s a little planet of its own, completely fabricated by sentient beings and populated from end to end. Jewel brings them in on the south side and they dip low to land in one of the docks. Jewel jumps down with the rope to tie them down and is followed quickly by Jim and Silver. They make their way up the dock to a rickety old building that looks to have been there since the building of the space station itself.

 

Jewel stops them before entering just so she can gather all of her patience, which isn’t much, and she knocks on the door. There is no answer for a long moment, and she very nearly gives up just so she doesn’t have to deal with the man inside, but Silver needs this, so she knocks again.

 

“I’m comin’!” A deep, gravely voice calls from within. Moments later, the door swings open and a short man with messy black hair and beard stands there glaring down at Jewel. His icy blue eyes flicker over Jim and Silver, lingering on the latter in bleary recognition, before returning to Jewel. “What d’yew want?”

 

“Jack, I’m callin’ in my favor.”

 

“I don’t owe yew anything.” He growls and goes to shut the door. Jewel reaches out a hand and stops him from slamming it in her face, setting him with a stern look.

 

“Remember, I fixed your lift for you.”

 

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Jack says, waving a hand and relenting. “Are yew lot gonna stand around all day or are yew gonna come in?”

 

Jewel glances back at the other two, her eyes blinking ‘help me’ in morse code, and she turns back to follow Jack inside. “So my friends here, Silver and Jim, they need a ship.”

 

“Ships I gots,” Jack rumbles, stumbling a bit as he walks. They seem to have entered an office of some kind, but it’s messy with papers and all sorts of bits and bobs scattered about the place. There are a collection of bottles on one table, presumably all drunk by the man before them. Jack pulls on the crooked cravat around his neck and waves a hand for them to sit in the chairs that are sitting about the place. Neither Silver or Jewel moves to sit. Jack sighs, annoyed, and sits down behind the desk. “Listen, I got a headache the size of this space station. Tell me yer offer and I’ll see what I can do.”

 

“That’s the thing, we don’t have anything to give you Jack.” Jewel says, looking back at Silver and Jim. “You have to have something you’re not using anymore.”

 

“Nothin’? What d’ye expect me to do with nothin’?” He rakes his fingers through the thick black hair on his head and sighs.

 

“You owe me, Jack.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah . . .” Jack waves a hand and goes quite silent. “I got an old observation vessel that came in a while ago. It needs some repairs. I can’t sell it off as it is, no one wants a clunker like that. It ain’t practical for anyt’ing other than travelin’ around lookin’ at stuff, and who has the money to be doin’ that these days? It’s been collectin’ dust for eight months. I could use the space--yew can have it for nothin’ if it means gettin’ it outta here.”

 

Jewel actually softens. This hadn’t been as difficult as she had thought it would be. “Really? You don’t want to see my tits or something?”

 

“Yer a bloody bean flicker.” Jack says with a toothy smile that shows a missing incisor. “I’d prefer to watch you with anudder girl.”

 

She rolls her eyes at that and the skinny man gets up from his chair to lead them out the back door. They walk a little ways down the dock, past grand ships, fishing vessels and smaller sloops. They come nearly to the end when they stop at a heavy old ship with a peeling red paint job.

 

“She’s old and tired--got a hole in the quarterdeck, but it’s nothin’ that can’t be patched.” Jack says, crossing his arms and scratching his fingers through his hair hurriedly. “Yew can go on up and take a look if yew want. I just want it gone. It’s a sore on me eyes.”

 

Jim looks up at the thing like it’s the most beautiful ship in the universe. His own ship, that he’ll co-pilot, co-captain, his own vessel. The owner of his own ship, a proper pirate. His heart is pounding as he looks hopefully over at Silver. “I love it,” he says quietly.

 

Honestly, he’d love almost any ship being given to them completely for free. But the fact that it’s their very first ship, coupled with its charming (if weathered) red paint makes his heart soar. He can see them on it, he can envision them flying together through the stars, making scores, finding treasure, commanding a crew. The ship looks big enough to need at least six people to run it, but they could swing that. Everyone is always looking for work.

 

“What do you think?” he asks Silver, his eyes turning back to the ship. “You have more ship know-how than I do, probably. Most I’ve been around is just Navy vessels.”

 

“She isn’t the prettiest thing in the universe, but she’ll do.” Silver says, circling around to get a better look at the sides and mast. From the looks of her, she has no guns, but then Jack had said it had been an observation vessel. It would give them the element of surprise, at the very least. No one would expect an observation vessel to be a pirate ship, and besides they could add guns later, it wouldn’t be an issue.

 

Most of the damage seems to be superficial, but they won’t know until they start flying it what troubles it has. “We’ll take her.” Silver says at last, his hand falling heavily on Jim’s shoulder. “Climb on up Jimbo, we’ve got to get her out of here.” As Jim scrambles up, Silver turns to Jewel, smiling. Her expression mirrors his. “Thanks old friend. I’m in your debt.”

 

“Naw, remember--I owed you one.” Jewel says, smacking his organic arm playfully. “It was good seeing you again. Next time we’ll hit the strip clubs.”

 

Silver laughs and pats her on the shoulder before following Jim up onto the ship. With his arm busted, it’s more difficult to get onto the ship, but he makes it up and stands on the deck, looking out over the space port. It feels right to be aboard a proper ship again, and with Jim at his side, that feeling is complete. “Let’s get underway Jimbo!”

 

Jim runs from end to end, checking to make sure all the equipment is there to get them off the ground. It has all the gears and pulleys and sails, the masts are in good shape and the railing around the side is mostly intact. The engines down below look good, if a little bit rusted, and the residential quarters are spacious enough that he and Silver could easily share them, it even has a massive swing bed. Big enough that he and Silver could lay in it together, he notes, but files that away for later consideration.

 

After checking the fuel and supply stores -- which are surprisingly good -- he fires up the engines down below, noting how difficult it’ll be at first for them to try and pilot a ship of this size just the two of them. The next thing they’ll need to do after repairing Silver’s arm is get a crew, a soon as they can. He has to stay below deck to keep the engines running smoothly so he can’t see off Silver’s friend, but just knowing he’s maneuvering his own ship now makes him feel a thousand feet tall.

 

As soon as they’re in open space and headed in the right direction for Erebus, Jim shuts off the engines and lets the momentum take them forward. It’ll only be a handful of days before they get there in this ship, compared to the weeks it would have taken them in the dinghy, which he’d intentionally left behind at Jewel’s place as a thank you.

 

He returns to the deck to find Silver standing there, and his heart starts to race all over again. He’d expect that would have died down by now, but something about emerging from their underbelly of their shared ship and seeing him standing there makes it all feel so real. They’re pirates now, together, and they’re going to stay together.

 

“It’s not bad,” Jim grins, coming up beside Silver and leaning on the railing. “We’ve gotta name her.”

 

“That we have.” Silver says, slipping an arm over Jim’s shoulders amiably. His heart is racing as well, thrumming a thousand beats per minute in his throat. He never thought he’d see the open starry sky again like this, but thanks to Jim, he’s alive and with the best man he’s known in a long time. It fills his heart with a sense of pride that he can rightfully call Jim a man now, even though he had no hand in raising him these last ten years or more, he still feels a swell of pride every time he looks at him and sees just how wonderful he’s grown up to be.

 

“You had any sweethearts back home you might want to name her after?”

 

Jim chuckles and shakes his head. “Never had any sweet hearts,” he shakes his head. “Closest I ever got was one of Amelia and Doppler’s daughters getting a crush on me a couple years back and telling me to be her boyfriend, but she was thirteen, not really my type.”

 

“And who didn’t have a ‘ting for Amelia.” Silver says, shaking Jim playfully. Memories come flooding back to him of being on board of that ship. He shakes his head to clear them away, gathering his thoughts to the here and now. “Well, she needs somethin’ befittin’. How about The Red Revenge?”

 

“Revenge of what?” Jim laughs. “We’re a ship not a double feature, we’re not getting revenge on anything. I don’t think we need to name it after anyone else, it’s our first ship together, it should be named after us. Or maybe after you, you have the pirate sounding name. Nobody fears _Pirate Jim._ ”

 

“Revenge is a classic--anyways, you’ll get a name.” Silver gives a belly laugh and wipes his eye. “Monikers come over time. There are plenty of pirates named James, Jeff, Jill--they just tend to be called other ‘tings along the way and nobody remembers who they were afore. Nobody calls me John anymore. What would you suggest?” He drops his voice and playfully adds. “Silver’s Revenge.”

 

“Stop it,” Jim grins and punches Silver lightly in the belly. “No revenge, we’re not getting revenge on anything. Our _second_ ship can be called the revenge when we use it to get revenge on the people who blew up this one.”

 

He turns around and leans backwards against the railing, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he thinks. “We should combine our names somehow. Not Jim, Hawkins maybe. Hawk? Silverhawk? That sounds like it’s been taken. Silver... bird,” he laughs. “Silverbeak. I don’t know. Silverfeathers. Silverwings? Do any of these sound not completely stupid or should I give up on the bird-themed names?”

 

“No no, I ‘tink your on the right track.” Silver says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “The Silver Birdcage . . . no that sounds like a bawdy house. Hawk’s Silver. The Flying Silver--no that’s stupid and it doesn’t even make sense.” Silver grumbles under his breath. He’s never had this hard a time thinking of a ship name. “The Silver Bird--you said that already.”

 

Jim elbows the older man in the side and grins, “The Flying Silver’s _Revenge.”_

 

Silver’s belly shakes as he reels back with laughter that’s so genuine and deep he actually feels tears welling up in his eye. “Oh heavens! Oh Jimbo . . .” He recovers breathlessly and wipes his eye. “You said one before that I liked. Somethin’ about wings. Silverwings?” He laughs again as he resists the urge to tack “Revenge” onto the end of it. “I ‘tink that might be our ship.”

 

“I like it,” Jim stares wistfully out into open space. “Silverwings. When we get a little money we’ll have to redo the paint and get that on the side. Silver lettering of course. Now let’s go under the deck and sort through all the junk that was left here by the last people who owned the ship. I’ll fight you for the bed this time,” he grins. 


End file.
